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A Composite Tale, written by members of the Winter 
Eveningf Reading Club, of Saint Albans, 
Vermont* 


The first and three last chapters were written by the same hand. Each 
of the other chapters was written by a different 
member of the Club, 


COPYRIGHT* 1904. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 


SAINT ALBANS, VERMONT, 

Published by Roy A. Brush, 
1904 



» 


■ag*cPg i ’ V 

LlBRAf?Y«fOONQRESS 
TWO Ooolds Received 
SEP 16 1904 

OooyrfEht Efrty 
// / 9 a-^ 
CLASS a XXO. Na 

9 

COPY B 

!■ Ill' »ff 





ST. ALBANS MESSENGER CO. 
PRINT. 




The Secret of Table Rock. 


CHAPTER 1. 


Bitter Creek is not a particularly 
alliiringr name for a town. As it is 
located in Sweetwater county, it sug- 
gests a touch of that fine irony which 
marked the speech and general men- 
tal attitude of those pioneers, — strong, 
grim, rough men, — who are respon- 
sible for the nomenclature as well as 
the development of Wyoming. No- 
body could expect a place named Bit- 
ter Creek to attract the caravan of 
civilization, so nobody should, in rea- 
son, be Jisapxjointed at finding the 
buildings primitive and the X)opula- 
tion sparse. In point of fact. Bitter 
Cbeek holds no place on the map, ex- 
cept as a rather unimportant railway 
station around which, at irregular in- 
tervals and with no attempt at order- 
ly arrangement, are scattered a few 
rough dwellings. Its tribute to com- ' 
rnerce is a small and dejected “gen- 
eral store”, whose proprietor, still 
more dejected, is evidently long on 
leisure and canned goods, but short 
on hope and customers. To the trav- 
eler or tourist it offers only natural 
attractions, such as they are, and the 
hospitality of a rough frame hostelry, 
the only ambitious feature of which 
is the name gracing its swinging sign 
board — “The Great Western Hotel”. 

The place is not lacking, however, 
in features which might appeal to the 
artistic’ eye or to the geological nose. 
It nestles at the foot of a knob-like 
hill called “Table Rock” — a striking 
instance of false nomenclature, as 
this eminence, although mostly rock 
to be sure, bears as little resemblance 
to a table as might be. It is, in fact, 
a singularly shapeless and nondescript 
pile of broken boulders, no two of 
which bear the slightest apparent geo- 
logical relationship to each other. 


A few scraggly bushes cling des- 
perately to the interstices, and on 
closer inspection it is evident that at 
some period (probably when the rail- 
way was building) the restless hunger 
for precious metals inspired some 
prospector to take sundry bites out 
of the sides, and to disintegrate a few 
of the boulders with giant powden 
Apparently the queer, mixed-up for- 
mation failed to yield any profitable 
results, and the prospector followed 
the railway construction to fresh 
fields. 

Around the base of Table Rock 
sweeps the stream from which the 
station takes its. name — Bitter Creek. 
This also belies its appellation, for its 
waters are to all appearance normal 
and wholesome, and indeed are very 
suggestive of angling possibilities as 
they gurgle and tumble musically 
along their rocky bed at the bottom 
of a canyon some thirty feet deep 
W'^hich would, but for a bridge, cut off 
communication betw^een the railway 
station on one side and “The Great 
Western Hotel” and “New York Store” 
on the other. 

On a certain day in September, in 
the year of grace 1902, as the 5:27 
from the East was about due, two meii 
stood on the platform of the station 
at Bitter Creek. One of these was the 
station agent, whose presence was 
purely official and perfunctory. 

The other was a young man about 
thirty who very evidently did not be- 
long to Bitter Creek. He wore, to be 
sure, a rough, plain tweed suit quite 
appropriate to the place, but it hung 
extremely well from the shoulders, fie 
v/as about six feet, athletic build, with 
keen blue eyes, clear-cut, smooth- 
shaven face, and a general alert and 
well-groomed air that suggested larg- 
er types of civilization tf.ian those 


4 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


which surrounded him. Being only 
a man, with comprehension as vague 
as yours or mine of the mystical cos- 
mic forces which order our goings and 
comings in accordance with some 
higher law, he thought he stood on 
the station platform simply in obedi- 
ence to an idle impulse, which had 
suggested that he look upon the ex- 
press as it passed and refresh his faith 
in the actual existence, somewhere, 
of large cities, many people, and the 
strenuous movement of twentieth cen- 
tury life and affairs. So little do we 
comprehend of the ordering of things! 

Presently, with a shriek and a roar, 
with, much dust and sharp grinding of 
air brakes, the through express from 
the East hurled itself around the curve 
and grudgingly came to a stop. The 
great locomotive panted impatiently; 
the engineer, who was five minutes 
late, once more silently registered his 
opinion of certain “freak legislation” 
w'hich compelled this stop w’hether 
there were any passengers for the sta- 
tion or not, and looked back for his 
starting signal. This was promptly 
forthcoming, and the wheels had 
scarcely more than touched the point 
of rest than w’ith a siharp hiss ot 
Steam they began to revolve again, 
and with clang- of bell and exultant 
blast from whistle the express re- 
sumed its westward flight. But short 
as the stop was, it brought a surprise 
to the men on the station platform, 
for a passenger alighted. This w'as 
.such an unusual event as to be mildly 
surprising in any case, but the pas- 
senger in this particular case was a 
young woman who would have alight- 
ed from a drawing-room car in the 
Grand Central station in perfect har- 
mony with her surroundings. This 
conveys at least a partial idea of how 
amazing her advent was to the smajl 
audience on the platfoinn at Bitter 
Creek. 

She simply stepped from the sleep- 
er, and stood perfectly motionless, 
w'ith a singularly absent, impassive, 
introspective look upon her face and 
in her eyes, until the train moved off 
again. 

Of course this young person was 
beautiful. Had her figure been angu- 
lar or squat instead of a delight to 


the eye of artist or sculptor, her car- 
riage awkward instead of graceful, 
her complexion parchment instead of 
roselike, her hair brick-color instead 
of golden brown, her eyes common- 
place instead of deep and tender vio- 
let, or her age — perish the thought! — 
64 instead of 24, then had this tale 
taken shape only as a dry article in 
some scientific magazine — or per- 
chance remained unwritten. Ah! 
mystic power and wonder of female 
loveliness, how much of joy and sor- 
row, weal and woe are woven in with 
thee through all the ages of mankind! 

The unexpected passenger stood 
silent and perfectly motionless until 
‘.he engine of the departing express 
shrilled its defiant farewell. Then she 
started as one suddenly awakened 
from sleep and turning with a ges- 
ture expressive of mingled surprise, 
fright, and despair to the station agent 
ejaculated, 

“Is it gone? — it cannot have gone!” 

“It shorely is gone, ma’am,” replied 
that official, calmly. 

“But what shall I do? I did not 
mean to stop here — I must not!” 

The confines of the station platform 
being decidedly limited, the young 
man in the tweed suit could not help 
hearing and seeing all that tran- 
spired, and with a natural impulse 
of his age and sex he stepped forward, 
and doffing his hat said, 

“Pardon me, madam, but can I be 
of use in any way? I have no card 
with me but this professional one 
which perhaps will serve,” and handed 
the fair stranger a bit of pasteboard 
upon which she read at a glance the 
words 

John Gardner, M. E. 

614 Mutual Life Building, 
New York. 

Another glance, quick and compre- 
hensive, supplementing this informa- 
tion with the word “gentleman” writ- 
ten all over the young man who had 
addressed her, she replied at once with 
perfect frankness and graceful selt- 
possession, 

“I thank you indeed and gratefully 
accept your kindness. I, too, am from 
New York. My cards, with the rest 
of my personal belongings are flying 
westward on that dreadful train, but 


The Secret of Table Rock, 


5 


my name is Grace De Costa. Papa 
is a banker on Broad Street.” 

“Mr. De Costa’s name is quite fa- 
miliar to me, though I have not the 
pleasure of knowing him personally.” 

“I am indeed in a most strange and 
embarrassing predicament, I am on 
my way to visit an aunt in Ogden. I 
stepped oft the train here most fool- 
ishly, and now it has gone and — oh! 
what shall I do?” her hands clasping 
with a little gesture of despair. 

“Unfortimatieiy,” said Gardner, 
“there is no other through train until 
to-morrow, so the only thing to do 
is to make the best of the circum- 
stances, which are annoying indeed but 
not at all serious after all. Obviously 
the first thing to do Is to wire your 
aunt and allay any anxiety- on her 
part, and the Pullman conductor to 
instruct him about your belongings. 
Then, with your approval, I shall take 
you to the one hotel here, which is by 
no means luxurious in its appoint- 
ments but eminently clean and re- 
spectable. Mrs. Lynch, the proprie- 
tor’s wife, is an excellent, motherly 
soul who will delight in making you 
as comfortable as possible, and to- 
morrow you can resume your journey, 
with no great harm done and one of 
the stumbling-blocks we all have to 
encounter in life’s journey safely pass- 
ed.” 

Gardner’s cheerful tone and ready 
mastery of the situation seemed to 
reassure Miss De Costa and her 
charming face lightened perceptibly 
as she answered, 

“You are very good and all your 
suggestions obviously the right ones. 
Thank you again most gratefully.” 

The telegrams were despatched 
and the young man and woman so 
strangely met, set forth along the 
road which led from the station across 
the bridge over the canyon, toward 
“The Great Western Hotel”, which 
was in sight not more than ten min- 
utes walk distant. 

Gardner was silent, feeling that 
further comment upon the situation 
would naturally come from his com- 
panion, and as they passed out of the 
station agent’s zone of hearing she 
spoke. 

“I do not know what you can think 


of this singular and apparently most 
stupid accident. In fact I must con- 
fess I do not know what to think of 
it myself. Do you believe in hypno- 
tism?” — this with a frank, direct 
glance into the young man’s face. 

“In this age of dawning knowledge 
of things new and things old but for- 
gotten, it is hardly safe to disbelieve 
anything. Certainly the phenomena 
of hypnotism are too well authenti- 
cated to admit of a doubt that this 
strange influence exists,” he replied. 

“Well, it has certainly had no part 
in my experience or interest before, 
and only the want of a satisfactory 
and more commonplace explanation 
suggests it now,” said Miss De Costa. 
“I can only give you the simple facts; 

I was quietly seated in the car read- 
ing a book — one of the novels of the 
day and very ordinary one at that. 

I remeinber the grinding of the 
brakes, the slackened speed of the 
train and the voice of a trainman as 
he called out ‘Bitter Creek’. It is evi- 
dent that I must have put my book 
on the seat, or dropped it, deliberately 
walked out of the car and remained 
standing as you saw me until the 
train was again under way. I cannot 
understand or explain it in any way, 
but I give you my word that from 
the second of time in which I heard 
the name of the station called out 
until the shriek of the whistle awak- 
ened it, my consciousness wasi an 
absolute blank. I was before, and am, 
so far as I can see since this inex- 
plicable lapse, perfectly well and nor- 
mal in every way. Can you suggest 
any possible explanation? Ciould it 
have been hypnotic influence? and if 
so how or by whom exerted? I knew 
no one in the car. Or do you see any 
indication that I am not in ordinary 
mental and physical condition?” 

Gardner looked at her and did not 
need to assure himself that she was 
in every way lovely and natural, and 
in no way open to suspicion of mer^Tj 
tal or physical defect. 

“The hypnotic theory is of 9ftur^^; 
possible, but apparently not qllj 

probable,” he said. “It is a[),^pH,/ >eS“t 
tablished fact in mental 
in all persons, no matt^^- h9>y^/ pejrf^qt, 
their condition, the .ipii|P 4 jWcI 


6 


The Secret of Table Rock 


to an occasional sudden and inex- 
plicable lapse. The mental process 
‘skips a beat’, as the heart will some- 
times do, or as watches and other 
delicate pieces of mechanism will. 
Nobody knows why or how this oc- 
curs, but there are many striking in- 
stances on record. Of course during 
this fraction of time, the thinking 
mind is asleep or gone and action is 
guided entirely by the sub-conscious 
mind — or in other words by instinct 
and not reason. It seems mosit prob- 
able to me that you have experienced 
one of these curious lapses. At all 
events, you are evidently none the 
worse for it, and possibly in some 
way we do not understand, it may 
all be for your good fortune.” 

The charming smile which acknowl- 
edged Gardners success in cheering 
and reassuring his companion should 
have been, and perhaps was felt to 
be, an ample reward. 

By this time they had reached “The 
Great Western Hotel.” Mrs. Lynch, 
in her ample and spotless white 
apron, stood on the piazza to receive 
them. 


Down in the bottom of the canyon, 
about forty yards up stream from the 
bridge, where the current of Bitter 
Creek, broken by a long ridge of rock 
was turned aside in part to form a 
still, deep pool, a man sat on a boul- 
der fishing. He was of uncertain 
age — it might be anywhere from fifty- 
five to sixty-five, — and of medium 
build and stature. He was roughly clad 
and in garments well worn — but he, 
too, bore no brand of Bitter Cheek. 

As Gardner and Miss De Costa 
crossed the bridge, this man looked 
up at them with natural idle curios- 
ity. Gardner was on the up-stream 
side and apparently aroused no in- 
terest in the fisherman’s mind. As 
they neared the further end of the 
bridge. Miss De Costa instinctively 
turned her head and glanced behind 
her companion’s shoulders down into 
the canyon, with natural interest in 
the picturesque gorge with its wild 
rocky bed and sides, and the silvery 
stream fretting and fuming its de- 
vious way among the boulders, 
it was but an instantaneous gesture, 


for she was listening with keen in- 
terest to Gardner’s explanation. The 
vision of her charming face flashed 
upon the fisherman’s sight as the ob- 
ject flashes on a kodak lens when 
the shutter is snapped. But in that 
instant every trace of blood seemed 
to drop from his face, leaving it a 
cold, ashen gray. For fully a min- 
ute he sat there as motionless as if 
he had been petrified and become as 
one of the boulders that surrounded 
him in all shapes and on all sides. 

Then, moving in a queer, con- 
strained, unseeming kind of way, he 
arose, reeled in his line and inade his 
way by some familiar devious path 
that climbed among the rocks and by 
gradual stages up the steep side of 
the canyon, to a small plain cottage 
which nestled at the foot of the 
almost perpendicular side of Table 
Rock hill, and around the circle of its 
base just far enough to be out of the 
range of vision from the railway sta- 
tion. The only door of the cottage 
stood open and a woman, plainly but 
neatly dressed, with a strong and 
kindly face, was arranging the even- 
ing meal upon the table. 

The man entered, still walking 
slowly and stiffly and dropped into 
the first chair as one greatly fatigued. 
His ashen lips parted and words 
seemed to be propelled through them 
by some mechanical means quite 
apart from the man in his ordinary 
state. 

“She is here.” 

“Who is here?” asked the woman. 

“The last person in the world that 
human mind could conceive of as be- 
ing here. A creature of the one blood 
and name which it must please the 
Infinite to hurl through space upon 
this one obscure point in the earth’s 
surface. Ferdinand De Costa’s daugh- 
ter.” 


As Gardner and Miss De Costa en- 
tered “The Great Western Hotel”;, 
an excellent clock, “made in Water- 
bary, Conn.”, which occupied a re- 
sponsible position on the wall of the 
entrance hall, struck six, in such a 
prompt, business-like way as should 
carry conviction to all hearers that 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


7 


The clock was quite right about it, and 
it was just six o’clock. 

At this particular second all such 
clocks as were assigned to duty in 
the Borough of Manhattan, city of 
Greater New York, and animated by 
a proper self-respect and sense of re- 
sponsibility, should have been strik- 
ing eight. 

At least one of them discharged its 
duty promptly, albeit with more leis- 
urely and musical utterance than its 
distant relative in Bitter Creek. It 
was a plain but elegant affair, and its 
post of duty was the mantel of a 
small private dining room in the Wal- 
dorf-Astoria. 

The occupants of the room at this 
particular moment were two men — 
James Morley, age fifty, with ten per 
cent, deducted in appearance for good 
care, frugal habits, and the best of 
grooming, capitalist, financier, and if 
not already one of the “captains of 
industry”, at least a first lieutenant 
in the direct line of promotion. Paul 
Raymond, age sixty-three, with teh 
per cent, added for over-devotion to 
scientific study and research, clean- 
cut, intellectual face and thoughtful, 
nearsighted eyes, expert in chemistry 
and mineralogy. 

The two men had dined and, the 
waiter dismissed, were giving their 
attention to cigars and a bottle of 
tawny port. 

“Have you heard anything from 
your emissary yet?” asked Morley. 

“Not yet. He should have reached 
his destination about forty-eight 
hours since. It may be days and per- 
haps even weeks before he will have 
anything definite to report, but I 
shall expect by to-morrow' to receive 
a wire from him in the cipher code 
v.'e arranged and will advise you as 
soon as I do. You and I are such 
old and good friends,' James,” added 
the older man, “that we do not need 
much speech to understand each 
other, — but I want to say that I ap- 
preciate most fully the generous con- 
fidence which prompted you, upon my 
mere unexplained suggesHion that I 
‘thought it worth whole’, to assume 
without question or hesitation tjie 
risk and expense of despatching a rep- 
resentative chosen by me to the far 


ends of the continent on a mission the 
nature, duration, or cost of which 
you knew nothing whatever about” 

“Not a word, old friend,” said Mor- 
ley. “I know your reasons were good 
ones, and whether you accomplish 
whatever you are looking for or not, 
it is all the same. The best of us 
are only experimentalists and I am 
quite willing to take a chance with 
you. Pray do not feel the slightest 
obligation to explain until your own 
good time — or ever, for that matter.” 

Raymond reached out his hand in 
silence and pressed that of his friend, 
and their eyes met in a look of trust 
and mutual regard that must have 
been the growth of many years. 

“ ‘My own good time’ has come, 
James, at least for confiding to you 
in brief what my purpose and idea 
are. You may have noticed — or 
quite as likely did not, since it was 
not conspicuously mentioned in the 
daily press — that about two years ago 
a German chemist discovered a new 
mineral substance. His name was 
Karl and he gave it to his discovery, 
which he called Karlium. While en- 
tirely different from Radium, its 
properties are hardly less remarkable, 
and like that marvelous substance, it 
has thus far been recovered only in 
the most minute quantities. I sup- 
pose the entire known supply of the 
pure mineral could be held in this 
salt spoon. I was much interested in 
the discovery and have given a good 
deal of study to its nature and the 
conditions under which it has been 
found. If I am not wofully mistaken 
in my deductions — which is of course 
possible — and if nature has not 
swerved aside from certain pretty 
well-defined rules in the formation 
and trend of geological strata— which 
is also possible — there should be in 
the vicinity of Bitter Creek, Wyom- 
ing, if anywhere on this continent, 
a very considerable outcropping of 
rock bearing Karlium. If the mineral 
can be found, even in comparatively 
small quantity— which is likely to be 
the case in any event — its value 
would be almost Incalculable. The 
chance seemed to me at least worthy 
of careful investigation. That is the 
story in a nutshell, James.” 


8 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


“You speak with the care and the 
inodesty of a true scientist, my dear 
Paul,” said Morley. “I quite ag-ree 
with you that the chance is worthy 
of investigation. I am too well sup- 
plied with this world’s goods as it is, 
and too old a hand at the game of 
finance to be dazzled by golden 
dreams, or worried at their fading. 
So we’ll just put the whole business 
up on the shelf and let it rest until . 
you get results. Just one more ques- 
tion, though: — How is your agent to 
determine whether this mysterious 
metal exists in the rock or not, with- 
out the usual mining appliances?” 

“John Gardner is a thoroughly com- 
petent chemist, geologist, and miner- 
alogist. He is absolutely trustworthy, 
intelligent, and fully understands my 
theories about this mineral and the 
conditions under which it is likely to 
be found. He has taken with him a 
large carboy of combined acids, form- 
ing practically a new chemicar agent 
of my own discovery. Unless the 
country rock is more refractory than 
is at all probable, a small quantity 
of this liquid poured upon the surface 
will eat its way through the' micro- 
scopic pores without any other result 
unless Karlium is encountered, in 
which case a slight chemical reaction 
will take place and there will come 
up to the surface a sort of mist, of 
light greenish shade and , a peculiar 
odor. I consider this test as con- 
clusive as any that can be made.” 

“Answer quite satisfactory and 
complete, as I expected it would be,” 
said Morley. “And now I must go to 
meet an engagement. Success to 
your enterprise, old friend, and be as- 
sured that if you find what you are 
looking for there will be no' lack of 
capital for development and a full 
share of the fruits shall be yours.” 

With a parting clasp of hands, the 
two men went their several ways — 
Morley to meet the engagement at 
his club, and Raymond to his home up 
town. 

The great city, enmeshed in the 
Wizard’s web of shirnmering lights, 
plunged into its nightly carnival of 
joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, 
grace and disgrace, life and deatlh; 
Table Rock possessed itself and such 


secrets or disappointments as might 
lie in the stony hearts of itsi nonde- 
script ledges and boulders, in the 
great, deep, ineffable calm of Nature 
at the sunset hour; and the Golden 
Gate Rxpress . over the Union Pacific 
shrieked and thundered in' its head- 
long rush toward the setting sun. 


• CHAPTER II. 

The citizens of, Ogden are all proud, 
and justly proud, of their little city. 
It is not so near Salt Lake City as 
to be 'eclipsed by the glory of the 
larger place, nor so far away as to 
I'ender those glories inaccessible. It 
is fortunately situated, moreover, at 
the junction of two' important rail- 
roads and is a busy, prosperous, self- 
important little place. 

Ogden prides itself on its culture 
and . its society. Chief in all Ogden’s 
social, literary, and charitable enter- 
prises is Mrs. Inez Pettis. She is 
president of the Woman’s Club — for 
Ogden boasts that crowning glory — and 
president, secretary, or treasurer of 
every other association in town. Al- 
together she- is like the town; busy, 
prosperous, and self-important. Her 
face is mobile and her clear cut fea- 
tures remind one of her brother, Fer- 
dinand De Costa. Her manner is 
imperious but never dignified. Her 
house' is the finest in Ogden and she 
takes great pains to make it also the 
most attractive. She has unlimited 
pride in all her possessions, especial- 
ly her horses and her daughters. 

One evening Mrs. Pettis -was acting 
as patroness of the annual Charity 
Ball and beaming with pride and plea- 
sure at the success of the party and 
the' ■ popularity of her daughters. 
Dolores was, without doubt, the love- 
liest girl there. Janet was not beauti- 
ful like her sister, but it was a ques- 
tion which was the more popular. Mrs. 
Pettis watched them with gratified 
pride. 

“And I used to mourn over Janet’s 
snub nose,” she thought^ “and was 
afraid she’d never be a success on 
account of it.” And she beamed again 
at the very palpable evidence to the 
contrary. 

“When I see our girls having such 
good times,” -she said, turning sud- 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


9 


denly to her husband, “it just makes 
me ache for Ferdinand’s poor Grace, 
shut up there in New York, and never 
going anywhere. I believe I’ll have 
her out here.” 

Her husband only smiled, being 
used to his wife’s impulsiveness. She 
did not forget the impulse, however, 
but returned to the subject the next 
day. 

“Do as you like, my dear,” was Mr. 
Pettis’S' response. 

Mrs. Pettis had a pleasant Action 
that she always did as her husband 
said she should and this was the 
little formula whereby that Action 
was maintained. Her letter to her 
brother was characteristic. 

“My dear Ferdinand,” it read, “I 
suppose you still persist in shutting 
yourself up in your gloomy old house 
and never seeing anyone. O, I’m not 
going to argue or protest. I told you 
years ago that you were making a 
fool of yourself and I’ve really noth- 
ing more to say about it. It is your 
privilege, of course, to let every pre- 
sentable person in New York forget 
your existence, but it really isn’t fair 
to Grace. She should be out with 
other young people. Why, the girl 
must be nearly twenty-Ave already! 
Now, I want to give her some of the 
good times you’ve denied her. Ogden 
is not New York but it will do. She 
will go everywhere witjh my girls, 
and meet everyone she ought to, and 
I hope will have a good time for once 
in her life. I do hope you’ve let her 
learn to dance! Anyway, give her 
plenty of pretty gowns and a good 
allowance — you can afford it — and 
send her out here for the winter. I 
want her, and she needs it. 

“Yours, 

“Inez.” 

To Mr. Pettis’s surprise the invi- 
tation was accepted, but he reAected 
philosophically that one girl more 
would not make much difference and 
forgot all about her. Not so his 
daughters, Dolores and Janet. They 
and their friends talked of little else 
during the interval that passed before 
the day of their cousin’s expected ar- 
rival. 

On that day a group of young peo- 
ple were gathered on the veranda of 


the Pettis home. They had all come 
from playing tennis to rest and have 
a cup of tea. The Eastern cousin was 
again the topic of conservation. 

“I do wish you could tell us what 
she’s like!” one’ of the girls said. 

“But we can’t, you know,” replied 
Janet, “for we’ve never seen her.” 

“Her picture is sweet as can be,” 
said Dolores, who was presiding at 
the tea-table. “One lump or two?” 

“Two,” replied the young man ad- 
dressed, promptly. The rest of his 
speech was drowned in the buzz of 
talk, but whatever it was, it brought 
a most becoming blush to Dolores’s 
olive cheeks. 

“Uncle P’erdinand is queer,” Janet 
was saying. “He has loads of money 
but he won’t go anywhere or see any- 
body and I’m sure I don’t know what 
we can ever do with a girl brought up 
as Grace has been — she won’t know 
how to do anything! And will pro- 
bably disapprove ’of everything,” she 
added. “She was brought up in a 
convent, you know.” 

“She’ll be so horribly proper we 
shan’t dare let you come here, Teddy,” 
said Dolores to a youth, who, with the 
easy freedom of an intimate friend, 
was sprawling in the hammock, en- 
joying a pipe. 

“She p.robably smokes herself, if 
she comes from New York; all New 
York girls do,” he announced calmly. 

In the midst of the laughter and 
jeers that greeted this remark, Mrs. 
Pettis appeared on the scene with a 
telegram in her hand and excitement 
expressed in every movement. 

“Listen to this, girls!” she cried, 
‘Stopped at Bitter Creek and lost 
train. All right. Expect me to-mor- 
row. Grace De Costa.’ Now what 
does she mean by that? I don’t call 
it all right. Why should she leave 
the train at Bitter Creek, I’d like to 
know!” ^ 

“Perhaps she wanted a cigar,” mur- 
mured Teddy. 

“What’s the matter with you, Teddy 
Underhill,” Mrs. Pettis exclaimed. 
“What on earth should she want 
with a cigar? And what are you all 
laughing at? I tell you this is a 
serious matter.” 

“I don’t see what we can do about 


10 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


it, mamma,” said Dolores, “we shall 
have to wait till she gets here and 
explains herself.” 

“Well, I just hope she can explain,” 
fumed Mrs. Pettis. “I call it scanda- 
lous. I told Ferdinand — no, I didn’t 
either, but 1 meant to. She should 
have been chaperoned. And now I’ve 
got to upset those committee meetings 
again.” 

“Your cousin must be an original 
young lady,” said one of the young 
men as Mrs. Pettis left them. “I was 
in Bitter Creek once myself.” 

“Well, she’ll soon be here now,” said 
Dolores, rising, “then you will all see 
what she is for yourself.” And with 
merry plans for the morrow the party 
broke up. 


The unexpected presence of a beau- 
tiful, fashionably dressed young lady 
in her house w'^as the cause of much 
excitement to the landlady of “The 
Great Western Hotel,” good Mrs. 
Dynch. She bustled about in hasty ef- 
forts to make a place suitable for this 
stranger, whose attire filled her with 
awe and a certain half resentment, 
while her sweet looks and soft voice 
won her admiration. At last, after ex- 
hausting every resource, she left Grace 
alone in the room assigned to her, an- 
nouncing as she left thait supper 
would be ready in half an hour. 

Grace looked around the plain little 
room after the landlady left her. Its 
cleanliness pleased her. Any other 
discomfort was quite bearable, she 
thought, and since she was here and 
must stay, she w'ould cheerfully make 
the best of it. Since she was here! 
How strange it was that she should 
be here at all! How' did she ever come 
to leave her train in that peculiar way, 
— she, Grace De Costa, whose life had 
been so wholly uneventful up to now? 
Now, as she sat there, all that life 
passed before her mental vision as a 
panorama. 

She thought of the sitaid old house 

in street, which was the 

only home she had ever known. In- 
deed, it was almost the only house in 
the city she knew, for she " had no 
mother and her father had no friends. 
At least, no one ever came to the 


house excepting on rare occasions, and 
then always on business. 

She remembered her nurse, the good 
Marie, who could speak no English, 
and who told her such wonderful 
stories. How she had wept when Marie 
left them and went back to France. 
And her governess. Miss White; yes, 
she had loved her too, but never like 
Marie. 

Then had come the two beautiful 
years in the convent where she had 
been sent to finish her education. 
’Twas here that she had found her one 
friend. Sister Agatha. Though she 
had been a general favorite she had 
become intimate with none of the girls. 
All her love had been given to the 
dark-eyed nun, who seemed to her all 
that was pure, and good, and true. She 
had been back to see her many times 
and had always sought her advice and 
support in her small trials. What 
would Sister Agatha say of her present 
position, she wondered. 

Then had followed the four quiet 
years at home with her father. A tear 
stole softly down her cheek as she 
thought of him. She seemed now to 
see his handsome face, so cold ana 
stern to others, so gentle and tender 
when he was looking on her. How 
good he had always been to her, she 
thought! She had been his pet and 
plaything in babyhood. Then as her 
mind developed, he had made her, 
more and more, his companion. He 
had planned her studies. He had read 
with her. He had poured out all the 
treasures of his brilliant intellect for 
her, giving her the benefit of his wide 
experience and vast information. Only 
one subject was forbidden. Once she had 
ventured to speak of her mother. She 
remembered now how his face had set 
at her question. 

“Never let me hear you speak of 
your mother again, Grace,” he had said 
sternly. “The less you know about her 
the happier you will be,” and he had 
sent her abruptly from the room. She 
had never dared attempt to break 
through his iron reserve and mention 
the subject again. 

As she thought of this scene she 
drew from beneath her dress a minia- 
ture. A beautiful, dark face was shown 


The Secret Table Rock. 


11 


there, the haughty poise of the head 
strangely contradicted by the pathetic 
droop of the corners of the full red 
lips. This had been sent her on her 
twentieth birthday, just before she left 
the convent. With it was a card on 
which was written; “Your mother at 
twenty. Pray for her.” She had not 
dared show this to her father, but she 
had worn it constantly. Often she 
looked at it and wondered much what 
was the story of the girl whose face 
looked out at hers, and she prayed for 
her daily. 

Then she thought of her journey and 
the letter which had caused it. Her 
father had brought it to her, saying, 
“Read this, little girl, and tell me how 
to answer it.” She remembered seeing 
her Aunt Inez once, and the letter, so 
like her memory of her, had made her 
smile as she read it. 

How quickly she had assured her 
father, with fond caresses, that she had 
never felt the lack of anything in her 
life and that she was happy just with 
him always. But he had seen the 
eager pleasure of her look in her first 
surprise, and the invitation had been 
accepted. 

And now, here she was alone in Bit- 
ter Creek, when she should have been 
on the train for Ogden. How strange 
that she should have left the train: 
She had not thought of such a thing. 
’Twas as if there had been a fata: 
fascination in the name, as the train- 
man spoke it, which drew her from the 
car. The remembrance of it frighten- 
ed her and she gave a little shiver. 
There was a strain of superstition in 
her, an inheritance from Italian ances- 
tors, and it clutched at her heart now 
with a whisper of impending evil that 
made her shrink with shortened breath. 

The ringing of the supper gong 
broke the spell and she was ready to 
laugh at her fears as she descendea 
the stairs. Still, she felt a little forlorn 
going all alone to her supper in this 
strange place, and the sight of John 
Gardner at the table was a relief and 
pleasure. 

“O, I’m so glad you’re here!’’ She 
exclaimed, “I’m lonesome!” 

The speech was most ingenuous. 
Self-consciousness was not one of her 


failings and she would have been vast- 
ly surprised could she have known the 
variety of emotions her words awak- 
ened in her companion. 

She was eminently good to look at, 
he thought, as he met her frank glance, 
and it was nice to feel that she was 
ready to depend upon him. But her 
eyes met his too frankly and he would 
have been, somehow, better pleased 
had she been shyer in expressing her 
pleasure at seeing him again. Her 
manner was very charming though, 
and as far as possible from any bola- 
ness, and her voice was the sweetest 
he had ever heard. That made him 
think he would like to hear it again. 

“Has the time hung so heavily on 
your hands already?” he said. “How 
will you ever manage till to-morrow 
afternoon?” 

“I shall manage,” she replied bright- 
ly, “but it is a bit eerie, you know, to 
be where you have no right to be and 
not even know why you’re there. And 
even that wouldn’t be • so bad,” she 
added, laughing, “if I had brought 
along my toothbrush and comb.” 

“I will take you up to our store, after 
supper, if you will let me,” he replied. 
“I think I can safely promise you will 
find those most necessary articles in 
the stock, though it is always a ques- 
tion what you will find there.” 

They talked gayly all through the 
meal and every moment added to John 
Gardner’s growing infatuation. Never 
before had he seen such a girl. Ap- 
parently she was an entire stranger to 
the delicate art of flirting. For all her 
freedom of manner, he did not dare to 
pay her a compliment. Then she could 
talk intelligently about all sorts of 
things girls generally know nothing 
about, and she was full of interest in 
the place she had come to so unex- 
pectedly. 

He wished that he knew more about 
it, for she was unusually pretty as she 
listened eagerly to the little he could 
tell. If only she would bestow a little 
of her interest on him, personally, and 
not so obviously all on what he had 
to say! He felt suddenly that he could 
never be happy till those wonderful 
violet eyes softened and drooped before 
his, acknowledging him master. 


12 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


They walked to the store together, 
but she Was not inclined to linger by 
the way, and left him promptly on 
their return to the hotel. o 

Her coming had caused a sensation 
in the little place. Her beauty and her 
city clothes made her appear like a 
different order of being and the rumor 
of her had spread rapidly. Half the 
population had made some excuse to 
visit the hotel to get a look at her. 
She was the last to perceive herself 
the object of all this lounging throng, 
but, when she did perceive it, she fled, 
in embarrassment, to the privacy of her 
room. 

Grace slept soundly in spite of the 
strangeness of her surroundings, and 
woke to find the sun well up and shin- 
ing brightly. She dressed herself quick- 
ly, wondering the while how she 
should pass the time till the arrival of 
the train at 5:27. The day looked so 
bright and inviting that she determin- 
ed to take a tramp after breakfast, and 
she was just starting out as Gardner 
came down the stairs. 

She had an unacknowledged dread 
of being alone in this strange place 
and an impulse came to her to ask 
him to go with her. She put it aside 
immediately, however. He was a gentle- 
man, certainly, but he was also an 
utter stranger, and it would never do 
to ask him anything like that. So she 
gave him a bright good morning and 
went out of the hotel. 

Once out of the house she wondered 
where she should go. There was noth- 
ing tb the village itself that could not 
be seen from where she stood, and 
there were no roads leading inviting- 
ly out of it, as in the few country 
places she had seen in the East. Down 
in the canyon, the river, a silver thread, 
sparkled invitingly, and just ahead of 
her rose the tumbled mass of Table 
Rock Hill. She determined to climb the 
hill and see what sort of country 
chance had brought her into. Her sum- 
mers had been spent in the Catskills 
and .she was lAed to scrambles over 
rocks, and liked them. She found it 
harder climbing than she had expected, 
and when she reached the top she 
was tired and breathless and sat down 
to rest. She soon forgot her fatigue 
in her interest in the country spread 
out before her. Far, far below, the little 


river wound and twisted its way be- 
tween walls of rock. Near at hand the 
country showed hilly and broken. A 
little further off stretched a barren 
plain, and still further the Sweet Wa- 
ter Mountains rose grandly, and be- 
yond them mountain peak* after moun- 
tain peak, growing bluer and dimmer 
as far as the eye could reach. 

A long time she sat there gazing 
out on this country she had never ex- 
pected to see, wondering what drama 
was being played in such a setting. 
She had no share in this life here. She 
was but a spectator, she felt, waiting 
for the curtain to go up and the play 
to begin. What if among the actors 
she should see the face of her minia- 
ture? She was sure she should see it 
some day. What if it should be here, 
and now? 

She drew the miniature from her 
bosom and sat looking at it, when she 
M'^as startled by a touch on her shoul- 
der. She jumped quickly to her feet and 
confronted a woman with a kind, anx- 
ious face, who was plainly dressed and 
had a shawl thrown about her and 
over her head as if she had come in 
haste. 

“This is no place for you here, alone,” 
she said. “Get back to the hotel as 
quickly as you can and leave the town 
as soon as possible.” She spoke in a 
low, tense voice that made Grace’s 
nerves quiver sympathetically, but her 
courage was good and she resolutely 
shook off the oppressing fear. 

“Why, surely,” she said, “this is not 
so bad a place that a girl may not 
walk out unattended in broad day- 
light!” 

“Safe enough for others, but not 
safe for you, Grace De Costa!” the 
woman replied. “I’ve warned you; now 
go!” 

“How do you know my name?” ex- 
claimed Grace. “Who are you?” 

The woman shook her head. “Go!” 
she said, and left her. 

To be so addressed by name, in a 
strange place, and by a stranger, re- 
vived all the superstitious terrors of 
the preceding night, and Grace turned 
and hurriedly began her descent. In 
her excitement she forgot the minia- 
ture she held, till suddenly slipping, 
she put out her hand to save herself 
from falling, and dropped it. It fell 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


13 


from rock to rock and finally came to 
rest on a projecting boulder. Grace 
stopped bewildered. What should she 
do? Terror urged her to make haste: 
sentiment pleaded for the recovery of 
the miniature. Sentiment won and she 
started down the precipitous side 
where it had fallen. Here she found 
the climbing still more difficult, but 
kept steadily on until she came to a 
place from which she thought the minia- 
ture could be reached. Balancing herself, 
she put out her hand to take it, but 
fright had rendered her ordinarily 
calm nerves unsteady; she failed to 
reach it at first, made a second hurried 
attempt, grasped it, and fell headlong 
down the rocky side of the hill. The 
formation of the hill prevented 'her 
falling far. Another projecting boulder 
with a shrub growing from it stopped 
and held her as the miniature had 
been held. For a moment she lay there 
gathering her strength, then attempt- 
ed to rise. That, she found, was im- 
possible, and with the effort a sicken- 
ing pain in her leg told of a broken 
bone. All the terror she had felt sound- 
ed out in her despairing cry for help, 
and then she fainted. 


Our scene must change now to Lon- 
don, Fingland, and to one apartment in 
that vast city. 'Tis a handsome apart- 
ment, in an aristocratic quarter, and 
all the luxurious appointments speak 
of good taste and ample wealth. The 
rooms are lighted and there is a cer- 
tain disorder about them that tells of 
the recent presence of a number of 
people. It would seem that the occu- 
pant of the apartment had been en- 
tertaining. It would seem too, from the 
expression on her face as she stands 
in front of her open fire, that she is 
pleased with her entertainment. She 
is a tall, graceful woman of about 
forty-five, though her figure is so 
youthful as to make her seem much 
younger. There is a certain impression 
of power about her, not altogether 
pleasant. There is something almost 
cruel in the triumphant expression on 
her face. 

“He’ll do it!” she murmurs softly, 
“He’ll do it.” 

She is so absorbed that she does not 
hear the maid as she enters. She is 


not aware of her presence till she has 
spoken her name twice. 

“Mrs. Grant! if you please, Mrs. 
Grant!” There is an envelope on the 
salver the maid is_ holding. 

“A cablegram!” Mrs. Grant exclaims, 
as she takes it. “Tell the boy to wait, 
Sarah, in case there’s an answer.” 

The maid goes out softly and still 
the lady is loth to leave her happy 
revery. For a few minutes longer she 
dreams on with the pleased smile upon 
her lips. At last she tears the envelope 
open, and this is the message she 
reads: 

“The time has come. De Costa.” 

She springs to her feet in a rage. 
“I will not!” she exclaims, as she paces 
the room angrily, “I will not! How like 
him!” she cries; and tearing the 
cablegram in pieces she tramples it 
under her feet. There is something 
feline in the grace of her angry move- 
ments. 

“ ‘The time has come, the walrus 
said!’” she quotes with a bitter laugh. 
“And to the end of time the poor little 
oysters will go to be eaten,” with an 
impatient shrug. But just now ” 

Her raging walk has brought her to 
her desk and she sits down to it al- 
most mechanically. A moment later the 
maid answers the bell. 

“Give this to the boy, and you need 
not sit up, Sarah; I’ve several things 
to do before going to bed.” 

The paper she hands her is ad- 
dressed, 

“Ferdinand De Costa, 

”19 St, 

“N. Y., U. S. A.” 

and the message it bears is, “I’ll not 
forget.” 


CHAPTER III. 

When Grace D'e Costa left the hotel 
and made her way toward Table Rock, 
Gardner watched her from the front 
window of the hotel office, locally 
known as the “bar”, in silent dismay. 
He had spent the major portion of yes- 
terday pursuing his investigations over 
a tract of promising land, or rather 
rocks, that lay some distance beyond 
Table Rock proper. This spot could be 
reached only by the path she had 
chosen or by descending into the can- 
yon and following it up the bank of 
Bitter Creek, where there was ajiy 


14 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


bank, — in many places the way be- 
ing seemingly blocked to even one of 
Gardner’s athletic build by the steep 
walls of the canyon. 

At one spot there was a shifting 
mass of finely disintegrated rock, 
which sloped from midway up the 
wall of the canyon to the water’s edge, 
and which he had discovered possessed 
a peculiar property of seeming to be- 
come endowed with life and motion as 
soon as touched by the foot or hand 
of man, or for that matter anything of 
sufficient weight to produce motion. 
This shifting bank had been visited 
several times by Gardner and each 
time with increasing interest and won- 
der, because of certain phenomena and 
sensations which he had noticed the 
first time he followed up the bed of the 
canyon, and with which we will deal 
later. ' 

After hastily running over in his 
mind the plans he had made for the. 
day, without, however, consulting this 
beautiful and bewitching stranger, he 
resolved to carry them out with two 
amendments. He would take the dif- 
ficult and devious route up the can- 
yon instead of the direct a,nd easier 
way over Table Rock, and take up his 
investigations where he had left off 
the night before. He would, however, 
make sure to return to the hotel in 
ample time to enable him to see Miss 
De Costa and have a talk with her be- 
fore the 5:27 express arrived and car- 
ried away what had in these few hours 
become an extremely interesting per- 
sonality to him; and he then and there 
resolved to have important business in 
Ogden at a very early date. 

As a vision of loveliness and grace 
— clad, however, owing to unavoidable 
circumstances, in a tailor-made trav- 
eling gown, Knox hat, patent leather 
oxfords, and open-work silken hose, 
instead of short skirt and mountain 
shoes, — disappeared behind a big 
boulder at a curve in the path, Gard- 
ner left the hotel office, ascended to 
his room, three steps at a bound, un- 
locked an immense steel-bound trunk, 
seized a copper fiask made in curving 
form to fit the inside pocket of his 
coat, and then filled the flash not with 
a stimulant, but with acids from the 
carboy which was safely and securely 
fitted into one end of the trunk. He 


then started hurriedly toward the door 
and had just crossed the threshold 
when he stopped and in evident inde- 
cision seemed to ponder for a moment. 

“By jove, it seems foolish,” he said 
to himself, audibly, “it seems foolish, 
but I am going to take it,” and he re- 
turned to his trunk, unlocked it and 
drew out a belt and holster containing 
a heavy, business-like looking modern 
six shooter, which he buckled on under 
his coat. Then taking a light fly rod 
and a trout basket he descended the 
stairs to the hall where he encounter- 
ed Mrs. Lynch, the landlady. 

“A fine mornin’, Mr. Gardner,” said 
she. “Our stranger is goin’ to tackle 
Table Rock. I reckon them shiny shoes’ll 
be barked some afore she gits back: 
and if she don’t have stun-bruises 
fer some one to do up in arnicy, it’ll be 
a wonder.” 

Gardner smiled in a pre-occupied 
way and almost regretted, on the 
strength of her apprehensions, that he 
had not studied medicine and taken 
an M. D. instead of an M. E. as he 
had once nearly decided to do. 

“Never mind,” said he to himself, 
“If I can only some day put in an 
‘T’ and an ‘N.’ ” Then telling Mrs.Lynch 
that he was going up the canyon to 
try the trout but should be back in 
time to accompany Miss De Costa to 
the train, he started down a little trail 
which led by devious windings to the 
bottom of the canyon, and made his 
way up stream. 


While Gardner and Mrs. Lynch stood 
on the porch by the front door, the 
fisherman who sat on the rock the 
night before and was seemingly stun- 
ned as if by an apparition, at the sight 
of Grace De Costa, came across the 
bridge, up the street and entered the 
bar-room by a side door. Stepping up 
to the bar he ordered a drink which he 
poured out from a bottle bearing the 
legend, “V. O. P. Scotch,” and drowning 
it in water before drinking it as the 
bar-keeper afterwards declared, he 
lighted a cigar and strolled slowly over 
to the opposite side of the room to a 
table on which lay the hotel register, 
an ancient looking, much thumbed and 
soiled and fly-specked specimen of the 
bookbinder’s art. Had there been any- 
one in the room interested enough to 


The Secret of Table Rock 


15 


watch him, they would have seen that 
he was under intense mental and ner- 
vous strain. 

“God”, he muttered under his 
breath, “I dare not look. I may have 
been mistaken, but I cannot believe it, 
for that was her face, her hair, her 
eyes, her form, and if this book bears 
the name, ‘the die is cast’ and I must 
act and act quickly, or all hope is gone, 
for fate will never again put things 
within my reach.” 

As this flashed through his mind he 
steeled himself, and crushing his lips 
between his teeth until they bled, he 
turned the leaves of the register to the 
date of the preceding day and saw at 
a glance, as if cut in relief, so clearly 
and boldly for a feminine hand were 
they written, the words “Grace De 
Costa, N. Y.” 

Closing the book with a swift move- 
ment he turned and left the room, 
walked rapidly down the street, across 
the bridge and soon disappeared around 
the same impartial old boulder which 
had so recently shielded Grace De 
Costa’s fair form. Swiftly he moved 
along, almost as if in a dream, avoid- 
ing instinctively the various obstruc- 
tions which bestrewed the path, leaping 
from rock to rock, across cracks and 
Assures, skirting narrow little ledges, 
moving swiftly across smooth stretches 
of rock, level as a floor, where there 
was absolutely no trail to indicate that a 
human foot had pressed it in a year. 
Winding seemingly in a hap-hazard 
way, now to the right, now to the left, 
never stopping but hurrying onward, 
with feverish haste, had you or I seen 
him at this time we would have sworn 
that he never looked whore he stepped 
and that he gazed straight ahead with 
fixed eyes, guided by some mysterious 
force and muttering to himself almost 
the words that Grace De Cbsta had 
uttered, “Is it hypnotism?”, he follow- 
ed unconsciously step by step the way 
over which she had so recently passed. 

“Courage” he muttered, “courage, and 
who knows but that I may yet set all 
right?” 


Gardner made his way up Bitter 
Creek canyon that bright sunny morn- 
ing in a mood which was new to him. 
Ordinarily the world moved smoothly 
for him and his cares were few. Pos- 


sessed of good health, a fine physique, 
a strong and genial temperament, a 
technical education in his chosen call- 
ing, backed by a university training, 
enthusiastic over and successful in his 
work, and with financial resources 
above the average, he had never known 
the real meaning of worry or disap- 
pointment, or experienced a reasonable 
want that he could not satisfy. But a 
new leaf had been inserted in his book 
of life within the last twenty-four 
hours and he was just beginning to 
realize that it was the most interesting 
leaf in the book and that no matter 
which way his thoughts turned they 
inevitably returned to and rested upon 
this one leaf, which dealt entirely with 
a young woman whom he was at pres- 
ent, solels’^ for the sake of convention- 
ality, engaged in avoiding. 

“Never mind,” he said to himself, “I 
shall be back in New York, D. V., just 
about as soon as she is, and then un- 
der the circumstances, I will have a 
license to call on the banker’s daughter 
and receive his glad hand for ‘favors 
done’; and then it will be ‘up to me.’ 
In the meantime work is work and 
from now to 3 o’clock Karlium has the 
field and then I will be on hand at the 
5:27 and ask her if I may call should 
I happen to be in Ogden.” 

While engaged in this reverie and a 
thousand other subtle and shadowy 
ones, too tender and sacred to put oi» 
record for the cold gaze of a Winter 
Evening Club, Gardner had made good 
progress and reached that part of the 
canyon which was becoming of more 
and more interest to him because of 
the mysterious forces which were con- 
cealed somewhere in the immediate 
vicinity. He was devoting his time to 
the study of this phenomenon of the 
moving rock, with the view of deter- 
mining not only its chemical composi- 
tion, but its origin, for on close in- 
spection and examination, he had dis- 
covered what, so far as he knew, no 
one else was aware of, — and that was 
that this mass of disintegrated rock 
was actually forced out of the face of 
the canyon by some as yet unknown 
force and under most mysterious con- 
ditions. 

Upon first visiting the deposit and 


16 


The Secret of Table Rock 


becoming impressed with it, he made, 
one bright and extremely clear day, 
exhaustive notes and measurements. 
He then went away and did not re- 
turn for two days. When he did go 
back it happened to be on a dull, 
cloudy day, and to his deep amaze- 
ment, he found that the dimensions of 
the deposit had decreased to a marked 
degree. He was so impressed by this 
that he made daily inspections and 
memoranda, with the result that he 
established the theory that the deposit 
was affected by heat, moisture, and 
light in a manner that plainly denoted 
it to be no common stone. He also 
verified by measurements the fact that 
the deposit was steadily but almost 
imperceptibly forced or exuded from 
the face of the rock during the time 
that the sun was shining clearly, but 
that at night in particular, and on 
cloudy days to a lesser degree, there 
was a marked waste or shrinkage of 
the visible 'amount. 

To one of his profession this was of 
course deeply interesting and natural- 
ly his first thought was “what if Kar- 
lium accounted for this, or rather this 
accounted for Karlium?” When pear 
the spot where the deposit out- 
cropped from the ledge he had experi- 
enced peculiar sensations in the throat, 
chest, and head, which he had often 
noticed in the laboratory while experi- 
menting on Karlium with Professor 
Raymond. This had set him to think- 
ing that it would be well to test the 
face of the cliff thoroughly at the vari- 
ous strata, and on the top of a wide 
shelving ledge just above the seam 
where the deposit seemed to originate; 
and it was for this purpose that he 
had filled and brought the copper flask 
of acids. He now endeavored to climb 
directly up to the ledge above, in order 
to make a test, but he found it im- 
practicable owing to the abruptness 
and height, so he cast about for a 
feasible route. 

As he stood looking first down and 
then up the canyon, he found himself 
wondering which way he had best go; 
and then to his confusion and wonder 
he realized in a flash that some mys- 
terious force held him as if bound and 
that there seemed to be a terrible re- 


sponsibility thrown on him in deciding 
whether he should go down or up the 
stream. At this moment there flashed 
into his mind the words of Grace De 
Costa. “My consciousness was an ab- 
solute blank,’’ and before he realized 
why or how he found himself moving 
rapidly up the canyon; and could you 
have seen his eyes you would have 
seen that they seemed to be fixed in 
his head, staring straight ahead like 
those of the fisherman. 

The fisherman was at the same 
time making his way over Table Rock 
rapidly, step by step drawing nearer 
and nearer to the point towards which 
Gardner was also making; and each 
unconsciously drawing nearer to Grace 
De Costa. As the fisherman advanced 
over the rough and rocky way he con- 
stantly muttered to himself disjointed 
phrases in which were blended the 
names of Corona, Ferdinand De Costa, 
Marie, Dondon, Cannes. As he de- 
scended a steep declivity where the 
path turned abruptly and came out 
near the edge of the canyon, he sud- 
denly came face to face with the 
woman who had warned Grace. 

“Jane! he exclaimed, “what are you 
doing here? Why did you leave the 
house?’’ 

“Oh, Richard,’’ she said, “how you 
startled me! I had finished my morn- 
ing’s work and as you did not come 
back, I thought I would have time to 
take a tramp over Table Rock; but 
why are you here this morning, Rich- 
ard?’’ 

“Oh, for no particular reason,’’ said 
he, “in fact I don’t know why, Jane. I 
went to the hotel this morning and ex- 
amined the register, and it was Fer- 
dinand De Costa’s daughter that I saw 
cross the bridge with that young pros- 
pector last night. Now we must have 
an understanding here and now. Neith- 
er you nor I dreamed that she would 
cross our path in this out-of-the-way 
place. I want to tell you that I am pre- 
pared to risk all by seeing Grace De 
Costa to-day, if possible, and — talking 
with her.” 

“Richard!” she exclaimed breath- 
lessly, “you must not, you shall not do 
this!” 

“Jane! I have decided and nothing 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


17 


shall deter me. It is now life or death 
with me, and nothing shall stop me." 

"If nothing else will bring you to 
your senses,” said she, "I may as well 
tell you that I saw Grace De Costa not 
ten minutes ago and warned her to 
return to the hotel and see no one be- 
fore leaving the town to-night.” 

As the woman uttered these words 
the fisherman seemed to iturn to stone. 
Then with a furious expression on his 
countenance, he said: 

“You have spoiled all and shall suf- 
fer the consequences,” and whipping 
out a revolver, he fired a shot which 
was heard by Gardner as he ascended 
the canyon, while almost at the same 
instant, Gardner heard a piercing cry 
for help from down the canyon in a 
voice which he knew only too well to 
be Gracq De Costa’s. 

Turning quickly he rushed down the 
canyon at breakneck speed, jumpiqg 
from rock to rock, now in the water, 
now on the bank, dashing over places 
and up and down ledges, which he la- 
boriously climbed on his way up, and 
in a few minutes reached the bank of 
moving rock at the base of which lay 
the form of Grace De Costa, white and 
motionless, blood trickling from a 
wound on her temple, one leg twisted 
under her in a way to indicate that it 
was broken, and under her right hand 
what Gardner thouglut to be a minia- 
ture of her own face. Kneeling beside 
her he raised her in his arms and in a 
v'^oice as tender as a mother’s, said: 

“Grace! Oh, Grace, my love, speak to 
me! speak just once that I may know 
you live.” 

At first there was no response, and 
a terrible fear almosft overpowered 
him. He lifted her eyelids and to him 
the eyes .seemed set. He then attempt- 
ed to pry her lips apart and pour 
some whiskey into her mouth from a 
small flask he carried, but her tongue 
seemed to cleave to her throat. He 
had never seen anyone in a dead faint 
before, and for a few frightful mo- 
ments he believed she was dead. Sud- 
denly her eyelids fluttered, she gasped 
and finally opening her eyes she gazed 
blankly into his face, and said: 

“Someone called me — called — Grace. 
Was it you?” 


Gardner’s throat clutched and his 
tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, 
but he finally said, almost in a sob: 

“Yes, thank God, I did call you, 
Grace.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

When good Mrs. Lynch (whose hus- 
band was an engineer on the Unio» 
Pacific and seldom at home) first 
opened the doors of “The Great West- 
ern Hotel” to the public, she had, 
through pity, taken into her service, 
as well as her big Irish heart, a 
woman who had drifted into the 
small town like a storm -driven wreck. 

Her past was to all a sealed book, 
but she repaid Mr.s. Lynch’s kindness 
with untiring devotion; and the sight 
of a child' would bring such a look 
of longing into her face, — such pathetic 
eagerness to clasp the small creature 
to her breast — that all women, and 
some men, could readily see that the 
spark of motherhood had been kindled 
and still burned fiercely in her heart. 

“New England” was written on 
every feature of the rugged face, 
shone in the sad brown eyes, and 
dropped from her tongue with every 
sentence, so that she seemed like a 
being from another world to the 
Western people among whom she was 
thrown. Always ready to be of ser- 
vice to any and all, with a wealth of 
love brightening the plain but expres- 
sive features, she may have been a 
greater saint than many whose his- 
tories have come down to us through 
the ages, whose pictures are famous 
throughout the w^orld. 

On the - night when John Gardner 
and Grace De Costa, so strangely 
thrown together, were taking their 
supper at the hotel, it fell to Phoebe 
— not by chance, but by the myster- 
ious workings of what we blind mor- 
tals call Fate — to wait upon them. 
Grace’s delicate beauty and air of hign 
breeding, her gentle manner of speak- 
ing when thanking Phoebe for her 
services, had so impressed and worked 
upon the feelings of this poorer, un- 
fortunate sister, that she lived and 
breathed (to quote her own words) 
“like somebody treadin’ on air.” 

After the evening’s work was done. 


18 


The Secret of Table Rock 


the other servants asleep or amusing 
themselves in various ways, she sat, 
as she often did, with the weary but 
ever watchful Mrs. Lynch on the 
kitchen piazza. For a time thought 
held her in its embrace, then she re- 
marked to her companion: 

“Say Miss Lynch, did imu notice 
that handsome creeter with Mr. Gard- 
ner at supper to-night? Get down 
Bose!” (this to the fat, lubberly pup- 
py, who was trying to pull Nugget, 
the yellow kitten, out of her lap and 
insinuate his own ungainly body into 
the coveted spot). “Why she looks 
just like a tall white lily — one of them 
kind that my mother always had in 
her garden in summer, way up there in 
the White Mountains. Seems as if 
you must take hold of her, and if you 
did, she would droop and die. I 
couldn’t keep my eyes off from her and 
it seems just as if -I’d seen her some- 
where before — but of course I ne\^r 
did. I hope I shall have a chance to 
bouch her somehow, if only to kiss 
those pretty white hands, for it seems 
as if it would kinder ease the ache in 
my heart and bring me nearer to my 
pretty lamb layin’ by my mother’s 
side in the graveyard in Bartlett. 

“You’ve been awful good to me. Miss 
Lynch, takin’ me in when I come 
along here a stranger, with no money, 
(for it was all stole from me when 
my satchel was taken on the cars) 
nursin’ me through that sickness and 
givin’ me work when I got well, with- 
out askin’ me any questions, but I 
appreciate it and to-night it’s borne 
in on me to tell you my stoiy. 

“My father died when I was too 
young to remember him, but he left 
a little farm for my mother and me 
(I was an only child) up in Bartlett, 
N. H., and by working hard after I 
got old enough to help her, and selling 
farm truck and savin’, we managed 
to get along comfortably and be hap- 
py. I can see the grand old White 
Mountains now as I had from the time 
I could take notice, and I always lov- 
ed ’em in sunshine and storm. That’s 
one reason why I’m more contented 
to stay here than anywhere else, be- 
cause it reminds me in a way of home. 

“As I grew older, I kited round a 
good deal with the boys and girls to 


quiltin’ parties, apple bees and ridee, 
and if I do say it, I had my share of 
beaux, but 1 was a high-headed 
thing, and from seein’ and talkin’ with 
the city boarders that would stop at 
our house on their walks or drives 
for a drink of milk or a taste of 
mother’s cookin’, I got the idea that 
none of them plain, good farmer boys 
was my style. I must have a city fel- 
ler for my husband.” 

Phoebe paused and the sad face 
grew sadder. “Well! I got him and 
for about a year was happy, tho’ 
mother always kinder distrusted Wil- 
liam — his name was W|jlliam Elkins 
and he was a drummer, — said he was 
too slick and smooth; wasn’t willin’ 
either to talk about his folks or let 
me visit ’em, or have any of ’em 
come to see us. But’ I was livin’ in 
a fool’s Paradise and wouldn’t listen 
to a word. When my baby girl was 
born I was so awfully happy that I 
actually pitied Queen Victoria or any 
woman, rich or poor, that didn’t have 
a baby like mine.” 

Quietly Mrs. Lynch, during the re- 
cital of the story, had taken hold of 
a hand of the other woman, clasping 
it close, as if tio guard and protect 
her from the sorrow that was coming. 
The light of the moon fell on the lit- 
tle group, giving them a touch of un- 
earthly beauty, because it showed in 
the face of each woman the holy at- 
tributes of love and sympathy. 

“Well, Miss Lynch, I’m most 
through. Before my baby was namea, 
God took her home to his own tender 
arms. Then mother went, and be- 
fore I had got over the numb, awful 
feelin’ that almost froze my heart, I 
found out that William, my husband, 
had a wife and two children livin’ in 
New York. Then I was glad my 
mother and baby had gone home to- 
gether. 

“For a while, I was pretty near 
crazy, but I had good friends and they 
helped me to sell the old home (’twant 
worth very much) and I started for 
New York to fight for what I thought 
was my rights — but I hadn’t any and 
Oh! my, I tell you I pitied that other 
poor deceived wife, and those pretty 
children. She was good to me, but i 
couldn’t bear to see her (William had 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


19 


disappeared) and think of what 
I was, so I started in to work 
at one thing and another until finally 
I got settled down in one of the big 
highfalutin’ hotels as head chamber- 
maid. 

“One day while I was cleanin’ up 
the bathroom of some rooms that was 
occupied for a few daysi by two fine 
tho’ sad lookin’ women, I heard one 
mournin’ over the loss of their maid, 
who had cleared out without givin’ 
much warnin’. I was handy with my 
needle, could dress hair, pack trunks, 
never got tired, and could hold my 
tongue, and as there was nothin’ to 
keep me in this country (I forgot to 
say they were going to Europe in a 
few days) I just walked right out and 
asked ’em to try me. They had seen 
me and known me long enough to 
have some faith in me, so they hired 
me on the spot, and we all sailed for 
France on the next steamer. 

“I stood the voyage well, for in spite 
of my awful troubles, I had kept well 
and healthy, and it was a pleasure 
to wait on such beautiful women as 
they were. They were grand and 
high, but always sweet and gentle to 
me. One night just before we left 
the steamer at Cherbourg, I saw the 
daughter looking at an open locket 
she always had hung around her neck, 
on a gold chain, and all of a sudden 
she throws herself into her mother’s 
arms^ cryin’, ‘Oh, Mother, if I could 
only see my precious girlie again, my 
own baby, I should be glad to die!’ 
‘Corona’, says her mother, ‘be patient, 
and I firmly believe your child will 
be given back to you. Have you 
waited all these years to give up now? 
Pray to God, dear child, to endure 
until He sees fit to right your wrongs 
and punish the man whom nothing 
seems to touch that can hurt in body 
or soul, if he has one.’ 

“Mrs. Von Post was a widow, but 
I suppose poor Miss Corona^ as she 
called herself, had a good-for-nothin’ 
husband somewhere, but I never asked 
no questions. They always kept by 
themselves, never mixin’ with others 
and seemed to have plenty of money. 

“The strangest thing was that in all 
those years I was with ’em, we never 
set foot in England — lived mostly in 


France, Italy, and Germany among 
them gibberin’ monkeys that can’t 
either cook or talk. In the summer 
we would go into the mountains of 
Switzerland, and what with so much 
change in my life, and the lovin’ kind- 
ness of my two dear mistresses, peace 
begun to find its way into my heart 
again. 

“But after we had been gone five 
or six years, I felt as if I musft go 
back to my old home, if only to lay 
my head on my dear ones’ graves and 
rest for a little while. Mrs. Von Post 
and Miss Corona hated to give me 
up, but they did. We were in Rome 
then, and I had been feeling mean and 
queer for two or three weeks. I re- 
member the trip on the siteamer to 
New York, then some way gettin’ on- 
to a train that landed me here, sick 
Avith that awful fever, and that’s the 
last I knew until I see your good, 
motherly face bendin’ over me, and 
heard the Doctor say, ‘She will pull 
through all right now, Mrs. Lynch.’ 

“Ain’t it strange? There I wa« 
aimin’ for Bartlett, N. H., and 
the scene of all my misery and 
shame, and the Lord just took 
a hand in it and dumped me 
down onto you? I tell you. Mis* 
Lynch, I want to do somethin’ now to 
help somebody as I have been helped, 
just to show my gratitude to God and 
to let Him see that I don’t bear any 
hard feelin’s even towards William, 
although he is a scallawag. I sup- 
pose women are fools and will cling 
to the love that’s put into their hearts 
for men, no matter if they’re reg’tar 
Mormons.’’ 

The moonlght touched the woman’s 
face, bringing out the strong charac- 
teristics of great love, long suffering 
borne patiently and uncomplainingly; 
desire to serve her fellow creatures in 
joy or sorrow. Turned the tears glis- 
tening on her listener’s face into pure 
pearls; lay softly on the sleeping cat 
and dog, changing them into statues 
of peace, beyond the power of jeal- 
ousy and warfare which made their 
waking hours so exciting and, I grieve , 
to admit, enticing to both. 

The pines murmured softly, and the 
waters of Bitter Creek sang a song 
of peace to the weary-hearted; of joy 


20 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


to those who as yet had not touched 
hands with pain or sorrow. While 
over and above all, the angels of life 
and death looked down through the 
shining pathway of the stars, with 
blessings in their hands for all whom 
they might visit. For if we can only 
see aright, life is but the beginning 
of death, and death the dawning of 
life, a blessing to those who can real- 
ize its beauty. 

The two women sat still for a time, 
Mrs. Lynch’s motherly heart so filled 
with pity and sympathy for her com- 
panion that w'ords failed even her 
voluble Irish tongue. 

Finally Phoebe arose, still holding 
the sleeping puss, and remarked, 
“Nugget and I are going to bed for 
I feel as if there was a heap of work 
ahead of us to-morrow, and there’s a 
creepy, crawly feelin’ over me too 
about those two young things that 
looked and acted so happy to-night; 
somethin’ that tells me I’ve got to 
help ’em through a sight of trouble. 
’Phere! I guess I’m moon-struck but 
I suppose my own tribulations has 
put me on the lookout for other folks. 
Good night, you dear, good soul; 
don’t worry, for I guess you and I 
together can tackle anything that’s 
cornin’, — and lay it, too.” 

The generous-hearted landlady had 
one source of anxiety in the shape of 
a rollicking, lazy, happy-go-lucky son 
named Tim, who, when not entertain- 
ing the guests in the bar of the hotel 
with his quaint humor, and ready wit, 
the inheritance of a long line of Irish 
ancestors, was drinking deeply 
and earnestly with congenial souls 
at a saloon farther down and across 
the street, named by its owner and 
proprietor in a moment of drunken 
but poetical ardor, “The Blush Rose”. 

Sounds of song and laughter floated 
on the night air to the ears of the 
tired mother, as she made her prepa- 
rations for closing the house, and 
seeking her much needed rest ana 
made her wish audibly that the elder 
Tim could leave “that divil of an 
engine” and look after the boy. 

Little did she or Phoebe dream, as 
they slept, of the work that was soon 
coming to them, of the events that 
even then were taking shape, and 


would culminate in less than twenty- 
four hours. 


CHAPTER V. 

The man stood with the smoking 
revolver clutched tightly in his hand. 
Slowly the frenzy faded from his eyes. 
He lifted his arm uncertainly, waver- 
ingly, and passed his hand across his 
brow. His face, a moment before con- 
vulsed with passion, partially regained 
its composure. He glanced at the still 
smoking weapon in a dazed way and 
then at the woman by his side. Grad- 
ually, in his passion-clouded brain, 
the events of the preceding moments 
took definite form; the color faded 
from his face, leaving it a livid, ghast- 
ly white. 

“My God, Jane! what have I done?” 
he cried in a voice choking with sobs. 

The woman stepped to his side and 
put her hand lovingly on his shoulder. 

“Richard, dear, my poor Richard,” 
she said, tenderly, “come home with 
me, you are not yourself this morning 
— do come,” and she looked into his 
face with pleading eyes. 

The woman’s presence of mind alone 
had saved her from death. She had 
seen it coming and with the ready 
adaptation to circumstances born of 
her life of struggle, she had met and 
averted it. A sense of duty, always the 
unconscious though compelling force 
in her decisions, had abetted her in 
her determination to warn Grace, De 
Costa at all costs. It had also been the 
moving motive in her confession to 
Richard. She had fully expected his 
anger and was prepared to meet it; 
but at the sight of his face, convulsed 
with passion, his trembling form, his 
blazing eyes, she had almost lost her 
self-control. One thing alone prevented 
it, — that unconscious adaptation to 
surroundings which we call the in- 
stinct of self-preservation. 

She had made her confession with 
some misgivings, but was in no wise 
prepared for the paroxysm of rage 
which it called forth. Her expression of 
amazement had given place to one of 
horror as she saw his hand pass rapid- 
ly to his pocket. With swift intuition 
she had divined his purpose, taken one 
step forward and struck his arm a 
sharp upward blow with her clenched 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


21 


fist, causing the weapon to discharge 
itself harmlessly in the air. 

The man Richard at length recover- 
ed his compos.ure sufficiently to listen 
to the woman’s pleading and was al- 
lowing her to lead him slowly in the 
direction of the house at the foot of 
Table Rock Hill, when Grace De 
Costa’s cry of distress reached their 
ears. With a sudden movement he 
wrenched himself loose from the wom- 
an and rushed at breakneck speed in 
the direction from which the sound 
came. She called to him but, as he paid 
no heed to her cries, started to follow 
him. The events of the morning, how- 
ever, had placed too great a strain 
upon her overwrought nerves and aft'or 
a few steps, she grew dizzy, the rocks 
and bushes seemed to whirl round and 
round before her eyes, then everything 
grew black and with a moan of dis- 
tress she sank to the ground. 

Richard quickly reached the edge of 
the canyon and was hesitating in 
which direction to turn when he heard 
Gardner’s voice. He stepped forward 
and peered over the edge. The canyon 
was about ten feet deep at this place. 
Directly below him he beheld Gardner 
bending over the inanimate form of 
a woman, which he immediately rec- 
ognized as that of Grace De Costa, 
He quickly drew back for fear of dis- 
covery and waited to recover his 
breath. After somewhat regaining his 
composure, he concluded to have an- 
other look and crept stealthily to the 
edge just in time to see Gardner rise 
and glance anxiously up and down the 
canyon as though seeking aid, but he 
restrained himself. 

“No, it will not do,” he thought. “I 
must see her alone. There is too much 
at stake.” 

At length Gardner, in despair of re- 
ceiving any assistance, and realizing 
that something must be done, and that 
immediately, knelt down and raising 
Grace De Costa tenderly in his arms, 
in another moment had disappeared 
with his precious burden round a bend 
in the canyon in the direction of “The 
Great Western Hotel.” 

Quickly rising, Richard was about 
to retrace his steps in the direction in 
which he had come, when something 
caught his eye at the bottom of the 
canyon near the spot where he had be- 
held the form of Grace De Costa lying. 


He climbed quickly down and picked 
up the object which had attracted his 
attention. It was a miniature attached 
to a delicate gold chain and contain- 
ing the portrait of a beautiful girl. The 
man gazed at the beautiful face framed 
in its mass of dark wavy hair, and, as 
he gazed, the hard lines in his face 
softened, the cynical, reckless, devil- 
may-care look faded from his eyes, an 
expression of mingled tenderness and 
longing came into his face, the dis- 
figuring marks wrought by care and 
trouble seemed to disappear, as though 
smoothed away by love’s gentle touch, 
transforming his rugged face for the 
instant into the semblance of beauty. 
It was only for an instant, however. 
Gradually, the cold, hard, cynical ex- 
pression returned. 

“Bah! Am I a sickly sentimentalist 
to be unnerved by the sight of a wom- 
an’s face?” he said bitterly. “No! I 
think I will make no further attempt 
to see Ferdinand De Costa’s daughter,” 
he continued, and then, musingly, aS 
h.‘- glance fell agr.m on the minia- 
lui-e which he held in his hand, “I 
wonder what the nature of Ferdinand 
De Costa’s remarks would be if he 
knew that I had this trinket in my pos- 
session. I believe it would be worth 
a trip to New York to find out,” he 
continued. “Yes,” he said, addressing 
the miniature, “I believe I will keep 
you snug and close for a time at least,” 
and thrusting it into his pocket he 
stalked off in the direction of the house 
at the foot of Table Rock Hill. 


A week had elapsed since the events 
just narrated and the “mise en scene” 
no longer discloses the sylvan solitude 
of Bitter Creek but the cosmopolitan 
bustle of Greater New York, or, to be 
exact, an eminently aristocratic man- 
sion in an eminently aristocratic quar- 
ter of that thriving city. Within all Is 
silent confusion, the servants tiptoe 
about, gather in hushed groups, with 
pale faces, and speak in awed whis- 
pers. A terrible thing had happened. The 
master, Ferdinand De Costa, had been 
found that morning lying dead on the 
floor of his study, murdered, it is said 
by some, a suicide, it is whispered by 
others. The police and the coroner had 
been notified and after some delay the 
coroner arrived, a bustling, nervous, 
self-important little man, Svith the air 


22 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


of one thoroug-hly knowing his duty 
and a determination to perform that 
duty without unnecessary delay. After 
being ushered, or rather ushering 
himself, into the room where the crime, 
if crime it was, had been committed, 
he glanced hastily about, and then, 
seating himself at a desk, scribbled, a 
note and handed it to an assistant with 
instructions to deliver it immediately. 
The man glanced at the address and 
hastened away. While waiting for a 
reply he busied himself in an exami- 
nation of the body of the unfortunate 
man. 

It was lying at full length in the 
center of the room, face down, in the 
same position as when discovered at 
seven o’clock that morning by the 
butler. Near the body and to the right 
lay a revolver. The coroner picked this 
up, saw that one chamber contained 
an empty shell, and placed it on the 
table. He then bent down and continued 
the examination. A wound similar to 
that made by a pistol ball was dis- 
covered just below the right temple 
and he noted that the flesh appeared 
to be badly burned about the edges as 
though the pistol had been held close 
to the head when it was discharged. 
A further examination disclosed a 
spot on the skin at the nape of the 
neck and just above the collar. This 
spot was of a peculiar greenish tinge, 
was about half the size of a ten-cent 
piece, and directly in the center was 
what appeared to be an almost mi- 
croscopic pin prick. He shook his head 
in some perplexity and gently turned 
the body over, disclosing the face to 
view. Beyond the usual signs which 
betoken a violent death, he observed 
notliipt^- unusual, except that the jaws 
were set as though in a vise and defied 
all attempt to force them apart. 

Having finished his examination, 
the coroner summoned his assistants, 
who gently raised the body, bore it to 
a lounge and carefully covered it with 
a sheet. Hardly was this gruesome 
task accomplished when the messenger 
returned, accompanied by a weazened, 
insignificant looking little man with a 
small head, an unusually prominent 
hooked nose, and little sharp bead-like 
eyes that glanced restlessly hither and 
thither without appearing to rest on 
any object for more than a fraction of 
a second. Whexi their owner did deign. 


however, to let his glance meet yours, 
it went through you — as one of his 
associates expressed it — “like a gim- 
let through a sixteenth-of-an-inch 
board.” 

This was Grigson, or, as his Pinker- 
ton associates dubbed him. Hank Grig - 
son, the cunningest, coolest, shrewdest 
detective in the city of New York. 

“Ah! Good morning, Grigson,” said 
the coroner somewhat effusively “I 
sent for you from motives of precau- 
tion rather than because I believe we 
have here a case for you to exercise 
your talents upon.” Then in a lower 
tone, “It’s a clear case of suicide, but 
you know in these days of 3-ellow 
journalism it won’t do to neglect going 
through the usual formula.” 

The detective made no response but 
glanced rapidly about the small room 
in which he found himself, the little 
ferret-like eyes taking in every de- 
tail on the instant 

“Have you examined the servants?” 
he asked quietly, turning toward his 
voluble associate. 

“No,” was the reply. “It is hardly 
worth while I think. It is so clearly a 
case of ” 

“May I see the body?” interrupted 
the detective. 

“Certainly, step this way.” 

The coroner carefully raised the 
sheet and the detective bent over and 
keenly scrutinized the features of the 
dead man’s face, while his associate 
volubly directed his attention to the 
wound in the temple, and, with some- 
M^hat less stress, to the set jaws and 
the peculiar spot on the back of the 
neck, and then turned to speak to an 
assistant who stood near. 

Grigson, who had been examining 
this spot with apparent interest, seiz- 
ed the opportunity when the coroner’s 
back was turned toward him, quickly 
turned the body, bent still closer and 
peered into the dead man’s eyes. 

“Ha, I thought so,” he said under his 
breath. 

Hardly was this accomplished when 
Coroner Wilkinson rejoined him, and 
placing his hand familiarly on his 
shoulder, said: 

“Well, am I not right in my surmise? 
Come, admit that this is not a case re- 
quiring your services. I know it is dis- 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


23 


appointing but I have unmistakable 
evidence that the wound which caused 
the death of Ferdinand De Costa was 
self-inflicted.” 

A faint smile flickered for a second 
on Grigson’s lips. 

“What is your unmistakable evi- 
dence?” he questioned. 

“This,” replied the coroner, handing 
the revolver, with a triumphant air to 
the detective. 

Grigson took the proffered weapon, 
looked into the barrel, carefully remov- 
ed the empty cartridge from its cham- 
ber, and as carefully replaced it. Then 
he said: 

“Have you probed for the bullet?” 

“No,” was the reply, “it seemed a 
useless waste of time.” 

“You are quite right, it would have 
been a waste of time. I do not think 
you could have found it.” 

“What!” exclaimed the coroner, “are 
you casting slurs on my professional 
ability?” 

“Not at all,” was the answer. “You 
could not have found the bullet simply 
because there is no bullet there to 
find. At least,” the speaker added, “no 
bullet has been fired from this pistol 
since it was last cleaned. Let me 
prove this to you,” he said, in answer 
to the coroner’s look of incredulity, and 
drawing a handkerchief from his pock- 
et he forced one end of it, with the aid 
of a pencil, into the barrel, and then 
withdrew it. The handkerchief re- 
mained as spotless as before. 

He next removed the revolving 
chamber, again forced the handker- 
chief into the aperture containing the 
empty cartridge shell and withdrew it 
as before. As he did so a cry of sur- 
prise almost escaped his lips, for this 
time a black, sooty stain marred its 
whiteness. He gazed at the handker- 
chief for a moment in bewilderment, 
raised it to his nostrils, took a strong 
whiff, glanced rapidly about the room, 
observing in doing so the amused and 
somewhat triumphant expression on 
the coroner’s visage, arose and walked 

the table at which the coroner had 
'’at white writing the note, and appear- 
'^d to be examining the various objects 
it contained, although it would have 
been impossible for an observer to de- 


termine which particular object at- 
tracted his attention. He seemed satis- 
flea, however, and turning to the iftir- 
oner, said jokingly: 

“Well, Wilkinson, I do not flatter 
myself that my little demonstration 
nas proved as convincing to one or 
your obtuse intellect as I had hoped. 
The revolver barrel is certainly clean, 
but as for the chamber — however, that 
matter will wait. If you have no ob- 
jection I think I would like to examine 
the servants.” 

The butler was called, and upon be- 
ing questioned the following informa- 
tion was elicited: He had been in the 
employ of Mr. De Costa for the last 
tour years. His employer had return- 
ed from his office last night at the 
usual hour, had eaten his dinner and 
had retired to his study after request- 
ing him to light a fire in the fireplace, 
as the night was somewhat chilly. He 
did so and was about to retire for the 
night, as his master rarely had visitors 
and always let them in and out him- 
self when such an event occurred. As 
he was passing through the hall, he 
was surprised to hear the door bell 
ring. He immediately stepped to the 
door, opened it, and ushered in a man 
who asked to see Mr. De Costa. Had 
he observed the man’s appearance? 
Yes, he was about fifty-five years of 
age, of medium height, with a rugged 
face, somewhat tanned from exposure 
to the weather, evidently from his 
manner a gentleman, and appeared to 
be laboring under some excitement. He 
had conducted this man to the door of 
Mr. De Costa’s study, had knocked, 
and then, not wishing to intrude, had 
silently withdrawn. He w’^as on his way 
up-stairs when he recollected that he 
had failed to perform a certain duty 
which could not wait until morning, 
a.nd had descended to the kitchen. He 
remained there for perhaps fifteen 
minutes and was returning, when he 
was again startled by another ring at 
the door. This visitor proved to be a 
w«man who likewise asked for Mr. De 
Costa. He could give no description 
of her beyond the fact that she was 
tall, youthful in figure, and heavily 
veiled. He had informed her that Mr. 
De Costa was busy, but she had insist- 


24 


The Secret of Table Rock* 


ed that she must see him at once, that 
he expected her, and that she would 
takfe all the blame for disturbing- him 
upon herself. He had then left the 
woman seated in the hall, had gone to 
the study door and knocked. Mr. De 
Costa had opened it, and he had in- 
formed him of the woman’s presence. 
Upon receiving this information, Mr. 
De Costa had appeared somewhat agi- 
tated, but after saying a few words in 
an undertone to his first visitor re- 
quested him to show the lady in. He 
had done so and had then retired for 
the night. 

Up to this point the butler had been 
allowed to tell his own story. Grigson 
had listened intently and now said: 

“That will do, Thomas, for the pres- 
ent so far as your story is concerned, 
but I would like to ask you a few 
questions which may or may not throw 
some light on this unhappy affair. I 
trust you will answer them truthfully 
and to the best of your ability. Was 
Mr. De Costa’s male visitor in the room 
at the time you showed this woman 
in?” 

“I do not know sir. I did not go be- 
yond the door.’’ 

“It would have been possible for him 
to remain concealed in that closet or 
to pass out of the house by that door 
leading onto the side porch, would it 
not?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“I observe that both doors are lock- 
ed at present. Where were the keys 
kept?” 

“They always hang on that nail by 
the closet door, sir — why, sir, they have 
gone now. I don’t know what can 
have become of them, — they haven’t 
been off that nail, except when in use, 
to my knowledge, since I’ve been here, 
sir.” 

“I want to ask you two more ques- 
tions, and then I will trouble you no 
further,” said the detective. “First, 
was your master in the habit of read- 
ing by lamplight?” • 

“No, sir, that lamp which you see on 
the table was always kept cleaned and 
filled in case the electric light should 
fail which it sometimes did owing to 
poor wiring, sir, but Mr. De Costa 


never used it, he always used the elec- 
tric drop-light.” 

“And now for the last question: I 
observe a very handsome pair of tongs 
and a poker of the same pattern stand- 
ing by the fireplace; are they for use 
or merely for ornament?” 

“Oh, merely for ornament, sir. Mr. 
De Costa was very choice of them. 
They are heirlooms; I always brough,t 
in a poker to stir the fire and carried 
it away with me when I went.” 

“That will do, Thomas, thank you,” 
said Grigson, and the butler started to 
leave. He had reached the door when 
he heard the coroner’s voice calling to 
him. 

“I have a question I would like to 
ask you, Thomas. 

“Very well, sir.” 

“Did Mr. De Costa own a revolver?” 

“He did, sir.” 

“Is this it?” 

“It looks like it, sir.” 

“Can’t you state positively?” 

“Well, all I can say is one day this 
week when I was putting things to 
rights in the study I came across a 
revolver in a drawer in that table. It 
was rusty and I cleaned it, reloaded 
it as I had found it, and put it back. 
That looks like the one, sir.” 

“You say you put it back in a drawer 
in this table; — what drawer?” 

“The one that is open now, sir.” 

“Was that drawer open when you 
discovered Mr. De Costa’s body this 
morning?” The butler hesitated. 

“I can’t say positively, but I think 
it was, sir.” 

“That will do,” and the butler van- 
ished from the room. 

The housekeeper was next called. A 
true daughter of Erin with a broad 
Irish face stepped into the room and 
without waiting to be asked began her 
story, given in a rich, creamy brogue, 
and now and then interspersed with 
such exclamations as “Sure, I never was 
so upset in me loife,” and “Poor Mish- 
ter De Costa, shure a foiner gintleman 
never drew the breath of loife.” Dur- 
ing her recital, she held something 
clasped tightly in her fingers. As she 
paused for breath Grigson leaned for- 
ward and said: 

“What have you got in your hand?” 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


25 


“Shure, yer honor, I was just cornin’ 
to that. This was the way of it. I was 
upstairs in the Mashter’s room — shure 
a foiner gintleman niver was — doin’ 
the dustin’ this mornin’, when I be- 
thought me to get a breath of fresh 
air, so I goes to the windy and looks 
out and there on the ground I spies 
this picture, shure I never seen the 
loikes of .it before,” and she handed 
Grigson a miniature on a gold chain. 
It was the picture of a beautiful dark 
girl. As the detective gazed upon it 
with the eye of a trained reader of 
character, he noted with interest that 
the haughty poise of the head was 
strangely contradicted by the pathetic 
droop of the corners of the full red 
lips. 

The remaining servants were ex- 
amined one by one but they could 
throw no further light on the case, 
as they had all retired before the first 
visitor made his appearance. 

At length Grigson and the coroner 
became the sole remaining occupants 
of the room. The detective walked 
to the fireplace and examined the 
tongs and poker to which he had called 
the butler’s attention. He was about 
to thrust the poker into the dead ashes 
of the fire when he remembered the 
statement that it was for ornament, 
not use, and he substituted a small 
stick of kindling. Having accomplish- 
ed his purpose he crossed the room to 
where the coroner sat writing at the 
desk. 

“Well, Wilkinson, I suppose you 
have made up your mind by this time 
what it is, murder or suicide.” 

“I see no reason for changing my 
opinion as already expressed,” was 
the reply. 

“My dear Wilkinson, you are not 
only doggedly obstinate but you are 
likewise strangely obtuse.” 

“Many thanks, Mr. Grigson, for your 
complimentary observation,” replied 
the coroner testily, “but it strikes me 
that the obstinacy is on the other side. 
If De Costa did not come to his death 
by the aid of a bullet how do you ac- 
count for the wound in the temple and 
if the bullet was not fired from the 
revolver found at his side, how do 
you explain the outcome of your clever 


but rather disappointing handkerchief 
trick?” 

“Easily, in both cases, and a very 
simple matter. First let me call your 
attention to a point which you over- 
looked in your examination of the 
weapon in question,” and the detec- 
tive took the revolver from the table. 
“All five chambers are ioaded with 32 
calibre cartridges as you are no doubt 
aware,” he continued, “but you over- 
looked the fact that none of these car- 
tridges had been discharged.” 

“I beg your pardon,” said the cor- 
oner, taking the weapon “the bullet 
is missing from this cartridge and the 
chamber is also blackened from its 
discharge as you learned, much to your 
chagrin, I believe, from the stain on 
your handkerchief.” 

“True, the bullet is missing, or at 
least it is not in the cartridge,” re- 
plied Grigson, “but you will observe 
that the cap which ignites the powder 
is still intact.” 

“By, Jove! you are right, I never 
thought of that,” said the chagrined 
coroner, and then added, “I see! the 
bullet has been removed.” 

“Exactly,” was the reply, “These 
scratches near the bullet end of the 
cartridge clearly prove that to be the 
case.” 

“But how about the blackened bar- 
rel?” 

“My dear Wilkinson, you are really 
too easy,” laughed Grigson. “Does that 
smell like burned powder?” he added 
holding the stained handkerchief to 
the nose of the astonished coroner. 

“It ce tainly does not,” was the an- 
swer, “what is it?” 

“I strongly suspect that it is lamp- 
black. You may recall the butler’s as- 
sertion that Mr. De Costa never used 
the lamp which was kept filled and 
cleaned on his table. It was evidently 
used last night, butl not by De Costa 
and not for reading, 1 suspect,” and 
the detective pointed to the smoke- 
blackened chimney. 

“I believe you are right,” said the 
discomfited Wilkinson after a lengthy 
pause, during which he appeared to 
be in deep thought, “and I assume this 
to be your theory. After committing 
‘he deed the murderer looked a.bo«+ 
for some means of covering up his 


26 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


crime. Seeing the revolver, which lay- 
in the drawer found open by the butler 
when he discovered the body this 
morning, and which De Costa had 
probably opened during the evening, 
he seized it and placed it at the side of 
his victim, first removing the bullet 
and powder from one of the cartridges 
and blackening the chamber with 
lampblack procured from the smoked 
chimney of the lamp which he lighted 
for that purpose. He was evidently 
disturbed at this point in his labors^ — 
as he failed to similarly blacken the 
barrel — and made his escape through 
the door leading to the porch. He was 
undoubtedly a man of some ingenuity 
and one who had had experience in 
the use of weapons. Doubtless he 
hoped that the unexploded cap would 
escape other eyes as it did mine.” 

“You have given my theory exactly 
as far as you have gone,” said Grig- 
son, “but you have not yet accounted 
for the wound or stated the cause of 
death.” 

“I had assumed that the wound was 
the cause of death,” replied the cor- 
oner, meekly. 

“It would have been fatal no doubt 
had it been inflicted before death. Such 
was not the case however. De Costa 
met his fate from an entirely differ- 
ent cause as I will convince you later. 
That wound was inflicted after life was 
extinct, and to produce the impression, 
which the murderer sought to convey, 
of death by suicide. This is clearly 
proven by the fact that no blood was 
discovered on the carpet. By the way, 
here is the bullet, somewhat the worse 
for its brief siojourn in the fireplace, 
from which I rescued it, but you will 
see that the end, which is still intact, 
fits the empty shell exactly.” 

“How then was the wound inflict- 
ed?” interrupted Wilkinson. 

“ I am loth to believe that you have 
not discovered that easily ascertain- 
able fact,” replied the detective, with 
a superior smile. “How else than with 
this poker? You will call to mind,” 
he continued, “the butler’s assertion 
that it was never used. You will also 
observe that it had been used and that 
the end is slightly bent from having 
been placed in the fire and allowed . 
to become white hot. The weight of 


this knob at one end, the other being 
firmly embedded in the coals, accounts 
for the bend, or, rather, the bend 
coupled with its blackened appearance, 
proves that it must have been placed 
in the fire. When it became white hot 
it was used to produce the wound 
which you .believed caused by a bullet 
fired close to the head, and to the 
burned appearance of which you call- 
ed my attention.” 

“What then was the cause of death?” 
asked the coroner in some bewilder- 
ment. 

“I will tell you my theory,” replied 
Grigson. “You observed the peculiar 
spot at the back of the neck, did you 
not, and likewise the vise-like set of 
the jaw?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did you also observe the eyes?” 

“Not particularly,” replied the puz- 
zled coroner. 

“Let us try an experiment,” said 
Grigson. “Bring the lamp — no not 
that one, the electric drop-lamp this 
way.” 

“Will it reach here?” 

“Yes, I think so. Now pass the 
light back and forth before De Costa’s 
eyes. Do you observe anything pecu- 
liar? Ha! I thought as much. Now 
take the lamp away and look again.” 
An exclamation of astonishment es- 
caped the coroner’s lips. 

“Well, this is something new in my 
experience. It is positively uncanny,” 
he added after a pause. 

The exclamation was called forth by 
the peculiar effect which the lamp had 
upon the pupils of the dead man’s 
eyes. As the light approached the face 
they slowly dilated until the iris be- 
came a narrow thread-like rim, but 
the moment it was removed the pupil 
contracted to the size of a pin prick. 
The coroner said something about poi- 
soning from belladonna. 

“No,” replied Grigson, “belldonna 
might account for the dilation of the 
pupils but not for their contraction, 
nor for the set jaws or the spot on the 
neck.” Then he continued impressive- 
ly, “I know of but one thing which 
can account for the conjoined ap- 
pearance of all three phenomena.” 

“What may that one thing be?” in- 
quired the coroner hardly able to re- 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


27 


strain his curiosity sufficiently to al- 
low Grigson to proceed. Grigson, how- 
ever, was not to be forced into a 
premature disclosure. 

“You know, Wilkinson,” he contin- 
ued, deliberately, “that I am greatly 
interested in scientific research and 
keep pretty well posted concerning the 
latest discoveries. A short time ago 
I came across a monograph written by 
a noted chemist. I took it up quite 
by accident but became deeply inter- 
ested and re-read it several times in 
order to fix the important points in my 
memory. The reason for my interest 
Mull be readily understood when I say, 
that while the major portion of the 
monograph was devoted to a descrip- 
tion of the physical appearance and 
mode of discovery of the substance 
dealt with, the latter portion describ- 
ed the results of a series of experi- 
ments performed on various animals 
for the purpose of ascertaining its ef- 
fect upon the vital functions. In every 
case the result was the same — instan- 
taneous death — and every case was ac- 
companied by peculiar physical phe- 
nomena. Immediately upon the in- 
jection of a drop of a chemical salt 
formed with this substance (to secure 
uniformity this was in each case in- 
jected near the top of the spinal col- 
umn) the creature became rapidly un- 
conscious, a round spot of a very un- 
usual greenish tinge appeared where 
the needle had pricked the skin, the 
jaws became so tightly set it was im- 
possible to force them apart, and the 
pupils of the eyes contracted, so as to 
be barely discernible. But the most 
important point of all, and the one 
which I depend upon to establish my 
contention, was discovered quite by 
accident. The writer of the monograph 
happened to bring the dead body of a 
rabbit, with which he had been ex- 
perimenting, near an electric light in 
order to more closely observe the crea- 
ture’s eyes, when to his astonishment 
the pupils slowly dilated but immedi- 
ately contracted when the light was 
remoVed. An ordinary lamp v*’as tried 
but with no such result. The light 
generated by an electrical current ap- 
peared to be the indispensable factor 
in the production of this curious phe- 
nomenon, which it is believed, occurs 


under no other conditions except those 
given.” Grigson paused and the coro- 
ner bent eagerly forward. 

“What is the strange substance of 
which you are speaking,” he asked; 
“Is it vegetable or mineral?” 

“It is a mineral and is called ‘Karl- 
ium,’ ” said the detective. “Good morn- 
ing, Mr. Wilkinson,” and taking his 
hat and coat he disappeared down the 
gravel walk leading from the house. 

Half way from the gate he paused, 
stooped down, and picked up an ob- 
ject lying by the side of the path. It 
was a woman’s chatelaine bag. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The afterglow of a gorgeous sunset 
at sea — rose changing to purple, purple 
melting to azure, sky and sea blending 
in opalescent tints, and, but for the 
regular pulsing of the ship, one might 
be floating through infinite color and 
space. It was the last night at sea; 
to-morrow the Campania would reach 
her destination, New York, and already 
the passengers seemed to feel the rest- 
lessness of that great res'tless city. 

Of the people on deck two were 
especially noticeable, a woman lan- 
guidly reclining in a steamer chair, 
whose youthful figure strangely belied 
the Aveary face, hopelessly sad but with 
traces of rare beauty, and eyes that 
had gazed into sorrow’s own for many 
years, but still with a latent fire in 
their depths which told how great her 
courage had been and could be again 
when needed. Her companion pacing 
the deck, retracing his steps before her 
with that mathematical precision which 
always denotes deep feeling, was strik- 
ing in the sensitive beauty of his face, 
mobile as a woman’s, — the face of a 
poet or an artist. 

“Geoffrey.” The voice, low but vi- 
brant, caiised the restless pacing to 
cease and brought the man to her side 
with a tender solicitude in his whole 
bearing and a certain doglike devotion 
in his eyes pathetic to see. “Some way 
I feel to-night that we are not only 
nearing the end of our voyage but also 
the end of all these years of miserable 
misunderstanding, and dread, and I 
wish to say what you would never let 


28 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


me say before, you most generous of 
men, that your devotion and sympathy 
alone have enabled me to endure these 
long years of exile and disgrace, 
though both unmerited, and my heart 
is heavy for you, my friend, for your 
lost career, your shattered hopes and 
dreams. Fame and fortune were yours 
by right and your life has been wasted 
in my hopeless cause. Nothing can 
bring back the lost years or the dreams 
of youth and I am not worthy of it all, 
Geoffrey; no woman is worth all this!” 

“Corona, you must not speak of this 
— you know you are more to me than 
fame or life itself and to be near you 
in your sorrow, to feel that perhaps my 
sympathy has made your life easier to 
bear, is heaven’s own reward.” 

The man had drawn a seat close to 
his companion’s side. The warm rosy 
tints of sea and sky had deepened and 
faded into the grays of evening now, 
somber, sad hues, and Geoffrey May- 
hew, sensitive alike to colors and 
sounds, shivered slightly as he gazed 
into the gathering gloom. But this 
woman’s voice, even in its saddest 
cadences, had ever soothed and charm- 
ed his moods, and as she resumed he 
gave her that concentrated attention 
and silent sympathy which long years 
of perfect understanding had acquir- 
ed. 

“T believe the end of it all will be 
soon now, Geoffrey, — something tells 
me so — and yet, death alone can ever 
outwit Ferdinand De Costa. Ah! if 
hate could kill, he would have died a 
thousand deaths,” she added passion- 
ately, and a certain cruel look flashed 
over the usually tender face and the 
voice was hard now. Exclamation and 
look were instantaneous, but the man 
at her side, who vibrated like a deli- 
cately strung instrument at every dis- 
cord of sound or color, winced and a 
look of acute pain passed over his face. 
“Don’t Corona, — don’t let us think or 
speak of these things to-night, dear.” 

“Oh,” she replied impatiently, “I 
have thought of nothing else for near- 
ly twenty years, and I must talk or go 
mad,” she added pathetically. “Why — 
I have asked this question a thousand 
times to myself as well as to you, 
Geoffrey, — why should my father so de- 


sire my marriage with Ferdinand De 
Costa? A mere girl of eighteen, al- 
ready betrothed to another, and that 
betrothal sanctioned by both parents 
then suddenly, giving no reason, insist- 
ing on this awful marriage to a man 
who came to our house only on busi- 
ness, which made my father stern and 
preoccupied for days afterwards, — a 
man old enough to be my father, and 
whom I instinctively feared and hated. 
And my mother, too, with tears in her 
eyes urged me, ‘for my father’s sake,’ 
— but now I know the tears were for 
me. How could this help my father? 
Why should he need anything of this 
cold, hard man? We had always had 
every comfort; Oh, shall I ever under- 
stand it all! My poor mother died 
without understanding.” 

Geoffrey Mayhew, whose passive 
role of listener was tacitly understood 
at these times, unobstrusively, almost 
gently, lighted a cigar, as though fear- 
ing to disturb Corona’s narrative, and 
she continued. 

“The horrors of that wedding, the 
gloom of that house, the clang of the 
street cars which vibrated through the 
great empty rooms, and I, who had al- 
ways lived in sunshine and happiness, 
shut up in that dismal prison! No one 
ever came to the house, except on busi- 
ness and often they w'ould remain until 
nearly morning, talking, talking. Some- 
times the voices would rise angrily 
and I would be lying upstairs shiver- 
ing with fright. Why, the very ser- 
vants seemed to feel an indescribable 
fear haunting the house and would go 
about with white scared faces. Fear 
lurked in the shadows and cowered 
behind the doors and I grew so timid 
that the swaying of a drapery would 
send me flying upstairs to my room, 
my very blood frozen by fright. 1 
nearly went mad, Geoffrey, during that 
year. My father and mother were 
traveling in the West at that time on 
some business father was interested 
in, and there was no one to whom I 
could go. Then when my baby came I 
hoped and prayed that sunshine and 
happiness had come with her; but no, 
this monster took that hope from me 
also and would not even leave my child 
with me, but must give her to the care 


The Secret of Table Rock 


29 


of hired servants in apartments in a 
remote part of the house. Was ever 
such Machiavelian cunning for tortur- 
ing a woman! Oh! I believe him mad, 
and so cunning in his madness that no 
one has ever suspected it! Well, as 
you know, at last I came away. Soon 
after joining my mother we went 
abroad, my father still remaining in 
the West on business. We lived for 
years in Italy and France, purposely 
avoiding London, because you were 
there and all my poor broken heart was 
with you. Then, while in Rome, our 
tried and trusty maid, Phoebe, that 
rare product of rugged New England, 
who always handled my belongings 
with a kind of reverent awe as though 
they were the relics of a saint and she 
a. devotee, became so homesick for her 
native hills that in very pity we sent 
her home, although loth to part with 
such faithful, untiring devotion. Then 
my mother sickened and died and thus 
left alone, my father, now a wanderer 
on the earth or lying in an unknown 
grave, not knowing where to turn or 
what to do, fate brought us together 
again.” 

“But you have told me. Corona, that 
De Costa was fond of the child and 
most kind to her.” 

“Yes, Marie has often said that he 
was absolutely devoted to Grace, — he 
named her Grace, — and really seemed 
like another being when with her. 
Child! why, she must be older now 
than I was when married to her fath- 
er. It does not seem possible! There 
are times, Geoffrey, when my heart al- 
most breaks with longing to see her, 
to clasp her in my arms, to hear her 
call me mother!” 

“Poor Corona, you will ere long I 
trust. Surely, this must he the end of 
all your wanderings; but you need, 
rest to-night, and perhaps, who knows, 
joy may come with the morning.” 

“Well, if you will rouse my drowsy 
maid I will go below now. Good night, 
Geoffrey.” 

“ ’Till the morning. Corona.” 

All night long Geoffrey Mayhew sat 
gazing into the darkened waters; all 
night long his thoughts surged through 
his brain in tumultuous confusion, re- 
viewing the scenes of his life in pano- 


ramic procession. Most vivid among 
those scenes was the picture of a slen- 
der young girl whose proud poise of 
the dainty head contrasted strangely 
with the almost pathetic droop of the 
red lips, like a prophesy of coming sor- 
row, and by her side a dark handsome 
youth, full of enthusiastic ambition. 
Life lay in most alluring paths before 
him, for his was that rare gift of the 
gods, the life of an artist; and for this 
sweet maiden, who had just plighted 
troth with him, what could and would 
he not do! Then the delight of the life 
abroad, pursuing his studies in pre- 
paration for the work which he loved 
with all the ardor of his artistic soul. 
He could and would be great for her 
sake! 

Then came the news of her sudden 
marriage to the wealthy banker, with 
never a word of explanation or regret 
from her and the shock of his cruel 
disappointment had seemed to paralyze 
alike ambition and effort, for the prom- 
ise of rare genius in the youth became 
but mediocre ability in the man, and 
when again they met he seemed in- 
capable of any action, only able to 
suffer in sympathy with her, and dream 
of what might have been.* 

What had this world-weary, sadden- 
ed man and woman to do with those 
two joyoTis, hopeful young creatures? 
Slowly and sadly he followed them 
through all their devious wanderings 
up to the present day, the day now 
streaming in shafts of light from the 
eastern sky, driving black night into 
the shadows before the fierce light of 
a new dawn, and as his dreams fied 
with the night, he roused himself with 
a,n effort, feeling numb and weary from 
his vigil and with a strange foreboding 
of impending evil, — an Indefinable 
something which took no tangible form 
as yet in his mind. 

The usual excitement on nearing 
land was evident on the Campania, 
as with slow and stately mein, un- 
hasting and losing not one atom of 
her dignity, — that perfect dignity of 
an English Cunarder, — she swept ma- 
jestically up the harbor. 

Apart and aloof from the eager ex- 
pectant passengers, stood Corona De 
Costa and Geoffrey Mayhew, their 


I 


30 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


faces wan in the morning light. The 
way was divided now and as they gaz- 
ed into each other’s eyes, each read 
there these questions, fraught with 
such intense meaning to these two sad 
souls; — Would they ever meet again? 
and if so, when and where? And al- 
ready, fate, with a certain grim humor, 
was preparing the answer. 


CHAPTER VII. 

W-h-a-n-g! Long and drawn- 
out went the insolent bell on the wall 
just at the head of John Norton’s bed, 
followed by twp short;, sharp little 
whang, whangs. 

The telephone — one of the imps of 
modern civilization — had invaded 
Rock Springs and it had rung 12 up 
there on John Norton’s bedroom wall; 
and .John Norton had just gotten to 
sleep, it seemed, for the first time in 
many days and nights. But he al- 
ways awakened when that bell rang 
12 and fell out of bed to say “Hello!” 
to the saucy little thing. 

Who would not say “Hello!” to a 
telephone, even if he cursed himself 
for doing so the next minute? The 
curiosity said to be characteristic of 
women just compels one to say 
“Hello!” If one could always see the 
other end of the line, some telephones 
would not be answered. 

But in a moment Doctor Norton’s 
wife heard him say, “Yes, I’ll come.” 

“Where is it?” she asked. 

“To Bitter Creek,” replied the doc- 
tor. 

“But you can’t get there. You 
know the bridge is down; it has been 
pouring all day and it is frightful 
now.” 

“Well,” he said, “they have waited 
all day for the doctor from the East 
side and the girl has a broken leg. I’ll 
take old faithful Dolly and she’ll get 
me through safely.” 

So he began to make ready and soon 
was astride his old chestnut mare with 
a bundle of splints and bandages 
slung across her shoulders in front of 
him. 

Dr. John Norton didn’t usually think 
of trouble until he saw it — and so to- 
night. But now he saw it, and that 
in plenty. An awful storm had been 


raging all day; — it was still raining 
and a black night to start out for a 
twenty mile horseback ride. It was 
far worse than his better half had im- 
agined, Once, after fording what was 
ordinarily a small brook, but now a 
great rushing river, the faithful beast 
fairly swimming across with her bur- 
den, he hesitated and wished he had 
not started. To return now, however, 
was out of the question. He knew 
what lay behind him, and he knew he 
could not retrace his steps. What was 
ahead he knew not and so he hurried 
on. 

With far greater fury had the storm 
been raging in Bitter Creek. Since 
ten o’clock that morning the sky had 
been black as night; it was enough to 
frighten the most fearless. Such a 
glorious morning and such an awful 
day! The thunder rolled peal after 
peal, and old men looked up the moun- 
tain side, to see if it were really stay- 
ing where its Creator put it. Some 
were almost persuaded that the 
mountains had fallen apart and were 
coming down upon them. A strapping 
boy, with a face usually sunburnt, but 
now ashen white, related on the piaz- 
za of “The Great Western Hotel” that 
the old landmark, “Table Rock” was 
no more! A great crooked, zigzag, 
forked streak of lightning illumined 
the heavens and lo! their faith return- 
ed, for they saw the mountains stand- 
ing as firm and hign as ever in the 
grandeur of their power. 

But all this was as nothing to the 
awfulness in the hearts of many, — 
nearly all — perhaps all — of the in- 
habitants of Bitter Creek. By this 
time everyone knew that a passen- 
ger had left the 5:27 train last night 
unbeknown to herself. She didn’t^ 
know she* had gotten off, they said. 
Some looked askance at this: but 
some gave credence to it, for many 
had felt or imagined a peculiar in- 
fluence since her arrival. Some with 
good reason, others because of un- 
explainable influence — probably as 
some chemicals part with their water 
of crystallization when conditions al- 
low. 

At any rate there was something 
queer about it all, and a gloom other 
than that caused by the elements was 


The Secret of Table Hock. 


31 


over Bitter Creek. Some said tjiis 
strang-e passenger lay dead up in the 
canyon, shot through the temple; 
others said she had fired a shot and 
killed one of their own citizens. 

Greater than all other gloom was 
that which enveloped John Gardner. 
His heart seemed sc big and cold! 
But the necessity for action relieved 
him of the great nerve tension. As 
soon as he had seen the life in Grac« 
De Costa, he picked her up in his 
arms — seemingly lifeless to be sure, 
for again she had fainted — and start- 
ed for the hotel. He saw the temple 
wound and with the right leg doubled 
under as though there were a joint 
half way beween knee and ankle, he 
knew the seriousness of the situation. 
He at once concluded that she had 
been shot, but he thought not to ap- 
prehend the murderer — only to care 
for the sufferer. 

It was a hard path along the canyon 
and up the bank and a long way to 
the hotel; but Gardner had strong 
arms, a steady foot, and an unswerv- 
ing eye, and soon his precious burden 
was borne into “The Great Western 
Hotel.” Bad news is a fast traveller 
and in some way the landlady had 
heard of the accident and had made 
ready her own bedroom on the first 
floor just off the dining room. Gardner, 
Mrs. Lynch, and Phoebe had made 
Miss De Costa as comfortable as pos- 
sibilities allowed. 

Once upon a comfortable bed, the 
sufferer regained partial conscious- 
ness. She told them that she had 
fallen, and that she suffered most 
from the wound in her head. Phoebe 
had not had experience with the 
world to no purpose. She knew what 
suffering was and how to relieve it, 
and while Gardner was gone to tele- 
phone for a doctor, and to telegraph, 
if possible, to Mr. De Costa and the 
aunt in Ogden, Phoebe got warm 
water ready and bathed the bruises. 
The care of the broken leg, however, 
was a little too much for her, and she 
sighed many times for the doctor; 
and later in the day she went many 
times to the window to look and see 
if he were coming. Just to know he 
had started would be some comfort 
to her. 


But she must temporarily dress the 
wounds for the sharp rocks had cut 
through the flesh. When she straight- 
ened the leg out, she saw for the first 
time how serious the condition was, 
and saw the reason for Miss De Cos- 
ta’s fainting. Then a little stream of 
blood spurted out as if shot from a 
gun, and so it was, for it was a large 
artery of the leg which was severed, 
and the heart was forcing out blood 
with every beat. Something must be 
done and that quickly, too. Phoebe 
knew just what that something was 
and soon the thigh above the frac- 
ture was bandaged neatly and tightly 
as possible. 

Gardner returned to tell them that 
the doctor would soon be there. As 
Mrs. Lynch, Phoebe, and Gardner 
talked together of the misfortune. 
Miss De Costa once In a while said 
something to them about her walk. 
It seemed, she said, when yesterday’s 
express pulled out of Bitter Creek 
station, as though some great calamity 
were in store for her. 

But she talked less and less, and 
her face grew whiter and whiter, and 
soon Phoebe noticed that her hands 
and feet were very cold. She hardly 
spoke to them now, and not always 
was ‘what she said qujite coherent. 
She said a good deal about a locket 
and a miniature, and once or tjwice 
she sighed and said if she only had 
her mother she would not mind. Once 
in a while, too, she seemed to notice 
her pain. 

Again Gardner went to the tele- 
phone, but soon came back with the 
news that the operator was unable 
to reach New York City or Ogden by 
wire — it wias storming so furiously 
they could not even telephone. He 
thought, however, that the doctor 
had probably started. The day seem- 
ed an eternity.* The storm had con- 
stantly increased. Some one was al- 
ways at the window hoping to see 
help come to them, for every hour 
Miss De Costa grew weaker and at 
six o’clock she would hardly answer 
their questions. A horseman had been 
sent both East and West for a physi- 
cian. About seven the horseman from 
the East returned, saying he had gone 


32 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


as far as he could and had to retrace 
his steps. 

Then Phoebe began more active 
measures of stimulation for her pa- 
tient and Gardner kept constantly at 
the telephone. Men were sent out to 
see if they could locate near by any 
break in the wires. Finally a little 
after nine in the evening, it was 
learned that Doctor Norton, of Rock 
Springs, was on the way, and all fell 
easier; within two hours his faithful 
old Dolly had gotten him to Bitter 
Creek. But splints and bandages were 
of no immediate use, for the experienc- 
ed practitioner saw at a glance that his 
patient was suffering from shock and 
to bring her back to consciousness was* 
his first duty. 

It was a difficult task, and all night 
long he worked. The labors of Phoebe 
had not been in vain. The mustard 
plasters and hot water bottles were 
serving their purpose and Doctor Nor- 
ton simply re-enforced and augmented 
these measures. He made the water 
hotter and the plasters larger and 
with his hypodermic needle sought to 
whip up the flagging heart. 

When morning came their efforts 
were rewarded and Doctor Norton 
pronounced Grace De Costa on the 
safe side. The bleeding arteries had 
been tied, and the leg placed in tem- 
porary splints. 

But her journey to Ogden was in- 
definitely postponed, and her stay in 
Bitter Creek was destined to be long- 
er than anyone had supposed. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“Not to be ministered unto, but to 
minister.” Phoebe, like the Master 
whom she loved and served, was a 
living illustration of these words. In 
and out of the sick room at “The Great 
Western Hotel” she moved with alert 
and noiseless step. Her touch was as 
balm to the wmunds of the sufferer. 
Grace De Costa would have passed 
into eternity long before medical as- 
sistance was secured, had not the 
faithful Phoebe fought death back 
with all the courage and bravery of 
her kind. Doctor Norton had been 
generous in his praise of her service 
and skill, and had spoken hopefully of 
the patient. . 


But three days had already elapsed 
since the accident and Grace De Costa 
was far from out of danger. Shock had 
been safely passed over, but the wound 
had become septic and delirium was 
present. She talked much of Sister 
Agatha and the convent, and called 
to her mother often; but that was all. 

In the silent night watches, Phoebe, 
listening to the faint moaning and in- 
coherent murmurings of the suffering 
girl, went back again in memory across 
the great water to the far distant 
country where she lived again in the 
service of the two beautiful, high- 
bred gentlewomen whom she loved as 
her very life. Ever since her eyes had 
fallen upon the face and form of Grace 
De Costa, the undercurrent of her 
thoughts had been of these dear friends 
of bygone days. 

“Seems as tho’ this poor sufferin’ 
lamb was Miss Corona herself some- 
times,” murmured Phoebe softfly to 
herself. “Queer how I git these two 
mixed up! When I saw her first I 
wanted to touch her and I guess I’ve 
got the chance, tho’ the Lord knows I 
wished her no harm. I love to take 
care of her, just as I did that other 
one, an’ if the time ever comes when 
she opens them eyes again and I hear 
her voice speakin’ to me, it’s all I’ll ask.” 

“The Great Western Hotel” was still 
wrapped in mystery and gloom! All 
communication with Bast and West 
was still cut off by the ravages of the 
terrible storm -and everything was at 
a standstill. The only crumbs of com- 
fort John Gardner received were from 
Phoebe’s hands, and she dispensed 
them as freely and as often as she 
could. 

“Land sakes alive, Mr. Gardner! 
Don’t you go to gittin’ all used up! 
This beautiful white lily is only just 
bent and bruised a little, that’s all. 
She’ll come up all nice as ever again 
in a little while with good care!” 

God bless these messengers of peace 
and consolation! How often they come 
to us in simple homespun, and what 
teachers and preachers are such as 
they! 


Geoffrey Mayhew sat alone in the 
apartment at his hotel in New York 
on the evening following the arrival 
of the steamer Campania. During the 


The Secret of Table Rock 


33 


day he had chanced to meet an ac- 
quaintance of former days with whom 
he had promised to dine at the club 
to-night and was now awaiting him. 

In full evening dress, the classical 
beauty of the man was more clearly 
defined than when last we saw him 
pacing the steamer’s deck. As a har- 
monious frame intensifies and enriches 
a painting, so elegance of dress and 
surroundings bring out the beauties of 
human form and feature. 

Looking into the face of this man 
to-night, we must instinctively notice, 
too, that it possesses an alert keen- 
ness of expression indicative of the 
birth of new intents and purposes. 
Geoffrey Mayhew had lived long with- 
in the last twenty-four hours, and in 
the midst of his indescribable loneli- 
ness after leaving her — the one wom- 
an in all the world to him — there had 
arisen within him a desire to fathom 
some part, at least, of the great mys- 
tery surrounding him and the woman 
he loved. 

Crushed as he had been by the news 
of Corona Von Post’s marriage to Fer- 
dinand De Costa, he had lacked the 
spirit to do and dare, had simply bent 
to his fate. Now, after listening to 
Corona’s sad story and hearing the 
pathos of her cry — “I have asked my- 
self this question thousands of times, 
Geoffrey, ‘why did my father desire 
this cruel marriage with Ferdinand De 
Costa?’ ” — he determined to throw off 
the lethargy which had held him cap- 
tive for years and to rise in the 
strength of his full-fledged manhood 
and find, if possible, some clew to this 
mystery. 

He was once more upon American 
shores, within touch of Ferdinand De 
Costa. He would know something more 
of this man! As for Mr. Von Post — 
Corona’s father — there remained no 
doubt, so far as known, that he still 
lived, though perhaps as an exile. He 
must be a man now nearing seventy, 
but Mayhew could not imagine him 
with the softening, mellowing tintjs 
of age upon him. No; he was a man 
who would harden with age, and wher- 
ever he was to-day Geoffrey Mayhew 
verily believed that there were hard, 
cold lines upon and about him. How 
well he recalled this man who claimed 
to be his friend and approved of him 


as a husband for his daughter, and 
then in his short absence forced this 
evil marriage with De Costa. Why did 
he do it? The Von Posts had much 
money and surely this man could not 
have been so base as to sacrifice his 
daughter to save or to gain paltry dol- 
lars. Why, then? That was the ques- 
tion that had haunted them for years. 
Mr. Von Post was a peculiar man — 
seemed ever seeking something — al- 
ways in research yet never apparent- 
ly attaining anything of value. Some- 
thing took him, suddenly, to the West 
— no one knew what and no one ever 
knew the reason or result of his jour- 
neyings. Yet in many ways he was a 
brilliant man, and there were many at- 
tractive traits in his character. Geof- 
frey Mayhew was an artist, by nature. 
There was nothing "in this man that 
appealed to him — therefore he never 
studied him deeply. In all the after 
years how often he wished that he had 
known him better! Now, he would 
make an effort to know something of 
both these men — the mutual persecu- 
tors. There was something thrilling 
about being at home again; and with 
his new resolve came fresh energy and 
zeal which made Geoffrey Mayhew 
tjn years younger in appearance. 

As his friend was announced he rose 
w'th alacrity, extending the hand of 
v'elcome, and soon the two were on 
their way to the club, stepping along 
the thronging pavement, shoulder to 
shoulder as in the old days. 

The newsboys were crying the papers 
and Mayhew tossed a nickel to one 
little chap, and took in exchange the 
latest evening edition. Under the full 
glare of an electric light, his eyes fell 
on the heavy head-lines 
“MYSTERIOUS MURDER 

OF FERDINAND DE COSTA.’’ 


CHAPTER IX. 

The first week of Grace De Costa’s 
incarceration in “The Great Western 
Hotel’’ passed like an awful dream. 
What with acute suffering, restless- 
ness, and weakness, and the narcotics 
given to alleviate pain, her condition 
was something akin to a continuous 
nightmare, while the anxiety on the 
part of those who cared for, and were 
most interested in her, made the 


34 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


hours pass as though weighted be- 
yond endurance. 

The storm continued for twenty 
hours, during which time, and after, 
all communication between towns of 
the surrounding country was shut off 
so that it was impossible to reach 
Ogden by wire for several days. When 
at last the message of the accident 
was sent, the news was far less 
tragic in character than that first 
penned by Gardner while awaiting 
Doctor Norton’s arrival. 

Mrs. Pettis, Grace’s aunt, whose 
committee meetings were so inter- 
fered with by Grace’s non-appearance 
in Ogden as planned, now forsook 
them altogether and, as soon as pos- 
sible upon receipt of the telegram 
from Gardner, boarded the train for 
Bitter Creek, bringing with her a 
trunk well filled with all manner of 
comforts and dainties for the invalid. 

She and Grace had not met for sev- 
eral years, when she had made a flying 
visit to New York from Washington, 
where she had been sent as a dele- 
gate from some one of her numerous 
clubs and organizations, some two and 
twenty in number. Grace happened 
to be home from the convent, a girl 
of foui'teen, although she seemed old- 
er, she was so self possessed. Marge of 
her age, reserved, the companion of 
her father, with many very decided 
ideas and opinions on subjects of 
which most young girls take little ac- 
count. 

“A great frank, honest boy,” was 
Mrs, Pettis’ mental note, ‘‘Can we 
ever polish her?” And now it was 
ten years later and Tiere she was on 
her way to Grace, who was in a most 
unexplainable situation and predica- 
ment. 

Grace, expecting* her aunt, impa- 
tiently awaits the arrival of the only 
relative she knows in the world save 
her father, and, always excepting the 
dear mother who she firmly believes, 
if alive, will one day come to her and 
be loved and adored as she now wor- 
ships the pictured mother, whose un- 
responsive lips she has so often kiss- 
ed and of whom she has so often 
dreamed. 

John Gardner offered to meet Mrs. 
Pettis at the station, and he sees to 


her baggage and makes himself gen- 
erally useful and agreeable. During 
the short journey from station to 
hotel, he acquaints her with the de- 
tails of Grace’s accident, retiring only 
upon leaving her opposite the door 
leading to Grace’s room. 

A light tap on the door and Mrs. 
Pettis enters and beholds an object 
of loveliness and grace long to be re- , 
membered. ‘‘Such eyes,” thought she, 
and ‘‘O Heavens, a straight nose. Poor 
Janet.” But the fact of the super- 
iority of a straight nose over a snub 
does not in the least abate the 
warmth of her greeting as she notes 
how truly beautiful is Grace De 
Costa. 

Her hair parted and brushed from 
her face and braided in two heavy 
plaits gives a look of classic simpli- 
city to the contour of the well-shaped 
head, while the pathetic droop to the 
mouth, in token of acute suffering yet 
present, gives the beautiful fane so 
pure and white an almost Madonna- 
like appearance. As she lies tihere 
clean and spotless in Mrs. Lynch’s 
bed no less white than she, her arms 
outstretched toward her aunt with 
the light of love and longing for more 
love in return in her fine eyes, it is 
smali wonder that Mrs. Pettis forgets 
her dignity and position as chairman 
of a thousand committees and hasten- 
ing across the room to the bedside, 
takes the girl in her arms and cuddles 
and coos over her as only a woman 
and a mother can and only a woman 
knows how to fully appreciate. 

After ieaving aunt and niece alone 
for the first few minutes Phoebe en- 
ters the room, bringing for Grace’s 
refreshment a most delicious concoc- 
tion of her own which is neither egg- 
nog, mead nor flip, but a pleasing 
combination of all these, bearing 
agreeableness as to flavor, as well as 
nourishment and strength to the 
body. 

‘‘Aunt Inez,”, said Grace, ‘‘this is 
Phoebe, dear Phoebe, who has saved 
my life, or, rather, kept it during these 
past days. What I could have done 
without her I do not know, for it was 
she who stood by and did for me dur- 
ing those awful hours before the doc- 
tor could get here from Rock Springs, 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


35 


when it seemed to me that every 
breath exhausted my strength too 
fully for me to ever be able to draw 
another,” and the long sigh drawn at 
recollection of the horror tells more 
than words of the shock and strain 
of those hours. 

Phoebe, only waiting to make sure 
that Grace takes the nourishment — 
“for she ain’t et more’n a fly in all 
these days,” she says, “and now we 
want to perk her up so’t she can en- 
joy herself a little before she leaves 
us,” turns, and after a quick silent 
survey of the room, known only to 
caretakers and night-watchers, leaves 
it silently. 

“Who is that woman?” asks Mrs. 
Pettis. 

“Why she is Phoebe, one of the 
‘help’, they do not say ‘servants’ out 
here, and I love her dearly. Aunt 
Inez.” 

Mrs. Pettis says nothing. Tier af- 
fections and love are, according to 
her own mind, better placed*, and 
she will see that Grace forgets Phoebe 
as soon as she is away from her. 

“Now tell me, who is the young man 
who met me at the train this morn- 
ing?” 

“That is Mr. Gardner, the one who 
found me on the mountain and brought 
me- to the hotel. Just think, I might 
have lain there no one knows how 
long, until they missed me here. It 
would certainly have been all day 
and I might have died out there and 
you never have known what became 
of me. But Mr. Gardner heard me cry 
for' help before 1 fainted and when he 
sot to me there I was apparently 
dead and he picked me up and carried 
me all the way, back to the hotel. He 
savJed my life,” said Grace, tears 
coming into her eyes. “And only 
think. Aunt Inez,” she went on, “he 
knows papa through a mutual friend 
’’ and has written him telling him about 
my accident, besides writing him 
every day to let him know how I am 
getting along. Is he not kind?” 

Aunt Inez thinks he is kind, very 
kind but registers a mental resolve 
to remove this very susceptible piece 
of humanity to her own home-keep- 
ing and jurisdiction as soon as pos- 
sible. 


“And now you must be made pre- 
sentable,” she says. “Whose clothes 
have you on? Mrs. Lynch’s? H’m 
I thought so — unbleached cotton, 
agate buttons, and cotton lace. How- 
ever, I have plenty of everything in 
my trunk and you must be made re- 
spectable immediately. No one will 
see you of course, but self-respect 
must be restored,” she continues, 
quite forgetting that Mrs. Lynch has 
given of the very best in her store 
and that Grace had already been spot- 
lessly arrayed that day in honor of 
Mrs. Pettis’ arrival. Calling to Phoe- 
be, she manifests her desire to see 
Grace again “decently clad,” thereby 
hurting the good womanfs feelings 
and establishing an animus which 
it requires much of Phoebe’s Christian 
grace" to subdue. 

Giving Phoebe the key to the trunk 
she remains with Grace, chatting and 
talking of one thing and another until 
Phoebe reappears with the desired ar- 
ticles of comfort and adornment, and 
soon the stricken heroine is arrayed 
according to Mrs. Pettis' mind and 
satisfaction, though the ministration 
is anything but a joy to Grace. Dur- 
ing the ordeal, for such it always 
seems when one is suffering from 
pain and weariness, whether of mind 
or body, Mrs. Pettis tells Grace of the 
safe arrival ‘of her trunk and belong- 
ings left on the tram, tells of the 
plans made for her and now destroy- 
ed and of all that shall be done for 
her once she is able to be moved from 
“this place,” as she unfeelingly de- 
nominates “The Great Western Hotel,” 
Bitter Creek, and chats volubly con- 
cerning her own busy life in Ogden. 

“We must get away from here very 
soon Grace. When I see the doctor, 
I shall tell him how Imperative it is 
' that you should be moved as quickly 
as possible, for on the tenth of next 
month our state meeting of the S. C. 
R. A. P. meets in Ogden and I must 
be -there to preside. While I am here, 
you are well cared for but it is not 
at all the wise thing for you to be left 
here alone among strangers.” 

“Strangers!” thought Grace. True 
they were strangers, considering the 
shortness of the time she had known 
them, called them by name, and been 


36 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


able to recognize their faces. Less 
than a week had passed since she 
left her father and started on the 
Western journey tlhey together had 
planned after receiving Aunt Inez’s 
letter, John Gardner and Phoebe 
were as unknown to her as though 
they had never existed and now — 
Phoebe by her gentleness and unsel- 
fish devotion had a place in Grace’s 
heart second only to that of Sister 
Agatha, whom Grace adored and to 
whom she owed all the strength and 
beauty of her pure young heart. 

As for Gardner it seemed as though 
she had alw'ays known him. He was 
her ideal of manliness and strength 
and had been ever since he lifted her 
so carefully from the rock and bore 
her to this haven of refuge. His 
agonized cry, “Grace, Grace, speak to 
me,’’ and the tender look In his face 
as she finally opened her eyes from 
the long faint, come back to her time 
and again in her reveries and dreams, 
and she is seized with a wild longing 
to hear him speak thus again and, 
hearing, to answer his cry. 

No, she was in no hurry to go to 
Ogden and when she did go — well, 
she had made up her mind to take 
Phoebe with her, and certainly she 
should ask Mr. Gardner to come to 
see her at the first opportunity. 

Grace’s revery was interrupted by 
her aunt asking, “Have . you heard 
from yoair father?” 

“Yes,” laughed Grace, “I had a tele- 
gram immediately he received Mr. 
Gardner’s message of my accident, 
saying he had written, or should write, 
I forget which, but beyond that noth- 
ing has come. When I am home I 
have to remind him of such little 
duties as letters, business appoint- 
ments, and ' so on and inasmuch as I 
am not there to either dictate or ad- 
dress my own letters, I presume I 
shall not receive any.” 

“That reminds me,” said Mrs. Pet- 
tis, rising, “that I must send a line 
to the girls at home. Of course you 
have no writing materials so I’ll go 
up to my room and when I come back 
will bring you a book that Janet slip- 
ped into the trunk for you.” 

Thus left to herself Grace’s thoughts 
go over and over again the events 


of the past few days; — her leaving 
the train which went on without her, 
leaving her standing so helpless on 
the platform of the station, her meet- 
ing with John Gardner; his kind so- 
licitude and practical help in her pre- 
dicament, the delightful tete-a-tete 
supper in the big bare dining-room; 
later, the trip to the one store to buy 
tooth-brush and comb; then the de- 
lightful morning walk and climb, up 
the mountain, the — the woman. Why! 
she had forgotten all about her until 
now! Who was she and why should 
she speak so ominously? Was she a 
clairvoyant, predicting coming dis- 
aster? Well it came all right enough, 
and speedily, thought Grace, but 
what did it all mean? 

How^ thankful she was that it Was 
Mr. Gardner instead of that awful 
woman who had found her, alone and 
helpless. How well he had carried 
her, how strong he was and she 
weighing one hundred and twenty- 
live pounds. Yes, he was handsome 
and clever. Phoebe said so and told 
her that his room was filled with all 
manner of “contraptions” whatever 
she meant by that. Clever, good, ten- 
der, strong — different from any man 
she had • ever ' known, — she — Grace 
must have fallen asleep, as I pre- 
sume the reader may during this 
sentimental ebullition, which must be 
excused only on the ground of Grace’s 
warm heart and the fact that never 
in her four and twenty years had it 
been touched before, for she was 
aw'^akened by a thunderous knock on 
her door and Tim, the landlady’s well- 
meaning but ill-doing son, brings in 
a small package bearing stamp and 
seal of a well known express com- 
pany. “It’s for you Miss Grace,” and 
his own politeness so chokes and as- 
tonishes him that he falls over two 
chairs and a table in making his exit 
from the room. 

As any little occurrence, however 
slight, is regarded in the light of* a 
small e?^citement, breaking the mono- 
tony of a sick-room day, Grace loses 
no time in opening the package. Her 
nimble fingers soon find the inside 
and. uttering a joyous cry, she draws 
forth from the box containing it what 
she believes to be her miniature. Up- 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


87 


on opening the case, however, and 
exposing the beautiful face to view, — 
she sees at a glance that while this 
is undoubtedly her mother’s face,— 
features, — eyes, nose, mouth, and all 
identical with those of the lost minia- 
ture, — added years had made tihe 
beautiful face more beautiful, the sad 
smile more lovely, and the deep eyes 
more tender than those of the girl 
mother whose miniature had also 
come to Grace from an unknown, 
mysterious source. 

If the sending of the first miniature 
to Grace De Costa, then a mere child 
at the convent, was a mystery, how 
much greater was the mystery of this, 
the second and older likeness of her 
mother. Who would or could know 
that she, who was supposed to be 
with her aunt and cousins in Ogden, 
had by some strange fatality been 
landed in Bitter Creek for an indefinite 
period? Who could have known the 
treasure this picture was to her, par- 
ticularly now that the other which by 
the same ill fate that seemed to have 
decreed all this suffering both physical 
and mental, was apparently forever 
lost to her sight, — for in view of the 
storm coming so soon after, there was 
no hope of ever finding anything lost 
previous to that time. Mr. Gardner 
said so and of course he knew. 

In whose possession had this min- 
iature been all these years? for Grace’s 
mother must now be ten, fifteen, per- 
haps more, years older than those rep- 
resented by this, her picture. There 
was no mark on the outer wrapper 
which gave any enlightenment as to 
the source of the gift, no familiar hand- 
writing nor clue whatsoever as to 
whence the package was sent. All 
these facts Grace’s quick mind and 
eye soon grasped and it was with 
mingled feelings that she turned to her 
aunt, who had entered unobserved 
and stood at the foot of the bed cur- 
iously regarding her. 

“It is my mother, it is. it is,’’ she 
exclaims, “but not the lost miniature. 
You know I lost the one I had had so 
many years the day I fell on Table 
Rock. O! I have missed it sol’’ And 
bursting into tears, she hands the 
locket to her aunt. 

Mrs. Pettis had never known her 


brother’s wife. Circumstances had 
prevented her being present at his 
marriage and the trouble, misfortune, 
or estrangement, whichever it was that 
had separated husband and wife, had 
occurred during the year that Mr. Pet- 
tis and she had spent in England, to 
the utter dejection of the prosaic for- 
mer and entire satisfaction of the 
ambitious latter. When she returned 
the name of wife and mother was a 
forbidden one in the household of De 
Costa so that for years her curiosity 
and amazement at the termination of 
what she always regarded as a most 
brilliant match, was still unsatisfied. 

Now she gazed into the beautiful 
face, noting and remarking various 
points of Grace’s resemblance, won- 
dering at the tragedy of the cruel 
separation from husband and child, 
white uppermost in her mind is the 
thought, “where did this come from?’’ 

“We must ask Mr. Gardner to help 
us about this,’’ remarks Grace pre- 
sently, “He will know what is best to 
do. Why there he is now,” and call- 
ing his name in spite of Mrs. Pettis’ 
horrified expression, as she hears his 
step pass the door on his way to the 
dining-room, he enters the room 
in answer to her summons. 

“O. Mr. Gardner,” she cries, “just 
see what I’ve got,” holding up the 
treasure. 

“Your miniature!” 

“Yes, not mine but one taken of my 
mother later. Just see how beautiful 
she is. Now where did it come from? 
Won’t you ask all about it at the ex- 
press office — where it came from, — 
who sent it and all?” These and 
many other disjointed questions and 
remarks’ come like an avalanche from 
her lips so great is her excitement, 
and Gardner has difficulty in obtain- 
ing the full import of the matter; nev- 
ertheless with Mrs. Pettis’ help he 
manages to get some little idea of the 
receipt of the mysterious picture and 
carefully placing the wrapper con- 
taining address and company’s stamp 
in his pocket he departs, promising 
to attend to the matter immediately 
after dinner. 

As he leaves the room, he meets 
Phoebe coming in with a tray con- 
taining Grace’s dinner. She too, has 


38 


The Secret of Table Rock 


to share Grace’s joy at recovering 
something that will take the place 
of the lost image of her mother. 

“Come and look at her, Phoebe — and 
tell me if you ever saw anyone so 
lovely in your life. No, I shan’t eat 
a mouthful until you have looked at 
this,’’ and she holds it up to Phoebe’s 
gaze. But Phoebe, setting down the 
tray, busies herself with the duty at 
hand; and in the arrangement of 
pillows and various schemes and in- 
ventions for the comfort of the in- 
valid, notes and picks from off the 
rug by the side of the bed a card, 
which had evidently fallen there and 
been lost, to less observant view, in 
the long drawn-in rags. As she rises 
Grace playfully keeps the miniature 
on a level with her eyes and, finally 
allowing herself to look, her good 
humored glance immediately dilates 
into one of surprise and great aston- 
ishment, as she turns and sinks into 
the nearest chair exclaiming, 

“Lord in Heaven, if that ain’t my 
own Miss Corona! ’’ 


CHAPTER X. 

Let us roll back the chariot wheels 
of time for twenty-three years, and 
upon a dismal winter day, enter, un- 
invited, the stately mansion of Fer- 
dinand De Costa, on street. New 

York. 

Its stern master, after an early 
breakfast that very morning, bade the 
butler say to Mrs. De Costa when she 
came down that he would be .ibsent 
at least three weeks, going West up- 
on business. 

Corona after a sleepless night seat- 
ed herself at her elegantly appointed 
table and leaning her cheek upon her 
hand in utter listlessness, thought, 

“Another weary day and I have not 
seen my precious child for a week, 
having been denied admittance to the 
nursery. Is this to be my life? Oh! 
God, how can I endure it.’’ 

As the tears began to fall the old 
butler delivered his master’s mes- 
sage. She suppressed a cry of joy, 
and the color came to her pale cheeks 
and a glad light shone in the sad eyes, 
as the quick thought came, “Three 
weeks with my little Grace, for I 


know with that tyrant away Marie 
will not deny my coming to the nur- 
sery.’’ She calmed herself with an ef- 
fort, drank a cup of coffee, and hur- 
ried from the breakfast room, sped 
with swift feet up the polished stair- 
case, crossed a side hall, down a long 
corridor with noiseless feet, and 
paused at a door from which she had 
many a day gone away with a heavy 
heart, Marie refusing to let her in. 

With a beating heart she now stood, 
listening to the merry cooings and 
laughter of her child with whom the 
gentle nurse was frolicking. Unable to 
longer wait she rapped upon the door 
and impatiently cried out. “Open the 
door Marie!” A dead silence follow- 
ed and as she repeated her demand, 
Marie moaned, “Oh, Mon Dieu, est ce 
vous, Madame, Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu, 
je ne puis pas ouvrir la porte pour 
vous, pouvre, chere, Madame, je ne 
puis pas.” 

“Marie open the door, vite, vite, Mr. 
De Costa is away for three weeks, 
three whole weeks.” 

The door fiew open, and Corona 
stood with shining eyes. Her little 
child, now about a year and a half 
old, was standing alone, an achieve- 
ment of which she was unaware. She 
caught her to her bosom and 'mid 
kisses and tears, gave vent to her 
pent-up mother love. She followed 
with delight the making of the little 
lady’s toilette, she kissed her in the 
bath and out of it, she dressed her, 
gave her her little breakfast, then 
rocked her to sleep singing soft, low 
lullabys, every word of which was a 
te deum and a heartfelt hymn of praise 
to God for this blessed day. 

She laid the child in her little white 
crib, and sat beside her and prayed 
for strength to bear her burden. She 
never left the nursery that day; and 
the day passed like a dream until the 
twilight fell. 

Ferdinand De Costa had gone to his 
office that morning with the expecta- 
tion of taking a train that would bear 
him West, almost beyond the confines 
of sundown, and to be away a much 
longer time than he had mentioned to 
his butler, when leaving the house, 
but a cablegram awaited his coming 
which opened up a matter of business 


Ihe Secret of Table Rock. 


39 


that brooked no delay and which could 
not be entrusted to anyone In his of- 
fice, however competent the man might 
have been. 

The day was passed with a great 
deal of anxiety and when business 
closed, greatly depressed in Spirits 
and worn out bodily, he went to his 
home and entering with his latch key 
encountered no one and not wishing 
to answer any questions went directly 
to the drawing-room, passed to the 
rear and, pushing aside the curtains 
in front of a little nook, threw him- 
self upon the couch in utter weariness. 

The twilight was falling when he 
was aroused by the opening of a door 
and through the parting of the cur- 
tains he saw to his astonishment 
Geoffrey Mayhew walking down the 
room, until he stood opposite the 
couch on which he was lying — Indeed 
he could have laid his hand upon him. 

He recognized him as the betrothed 
of his wife and dark thoughts surged 
through his brain; but his instinct, 
bred of a life in Wall Street, clung 
to him, and he waited, with tingling 
nerves, what time should produce. Al- 
most immediately his wife entered 
and came down the room with the 
air of a princess, her head erect, a 
glad smile upon her illumined face, 
and her eyes bright with unshed tears. 

She extended her two hands and 
with a glad triumphant cry of “Oh! 
Geoffrey,” she stood before him, their 
hands clasped but both speechless, 
simply gazing into each other’s eyes 
with unspoken love. 

“Corona, I have come to say fare- 
well. I am going abroad to live — any- 
where but in New York. I have come 
to-day as I go to the steamer that 
bears me away, never expecting to re- 
turn to look into the face I have loved 
so long, and to ask you. Corona, in 
. ;nercy to tell me why you so suddenly 
married, breaking our well-known en- 
gagement, and no word of dismissal 
or even explanation from you; for 
that you still love me I know full 
well.” 

Corona replied, “I am so glad that 
you have come to-day, the only day 
since that fatal one when I could 
have seen you, for, asking for me, the 
well instructed servants wQuld nqt 


have admitted you; but to-day, thank 
God, Mr. De Costa is far away for a 
three weeks’ stay, and I breathe a 
breath of freedom. To answer your 
question, Mr. De Costa had been at 
our home one night, as he often was, 
with my father on business till a late 
hour and the words that passed be- 
tween them were so exciting, so 
alarming, that my mother and I sat 
in her room just above my father’s 
den, where their meetings always took 
place, with clasped hands in terror. 
At last, at two o’clock in the morn- 
ing, the sounds ceased, the front door 
closed, my father came up the stairs 
and I fled to my own room with an in- 
deflnable presentiment of impending 
evil. 

“The next morning my mother did 
not appear, and my father said, ‘Cor- 
ona, come to my den, I have some- 
thing to say to you.’ I followed him. 
we entered, he closed the door and 
turned the key. 

“He took my hands, looked at me 
for a minute and said, ‘Corona, do 
you love your father?” I said, ‘You 
know I do.’ ‘Do you love him well 
enough to make a great sacrifice for 
him?’ A swift thought! of loss of 
money flew 'through my mind and I 
threw my arms around his neck and 
said, ‘Oh! my dear father, ask anything 
of me, nothing shall be considered a 
sacrifice if it will be any help to you.’ 
He said, ‘My dear little girl, Mr. De 
Costa has asked your hand in mar- 
riage and I have given it.’ I sprang 
from him as though a serpent had 
stung me and cried, ‘Not that! not 
that! you do not mean what you say!’ 
‘Yes’; he replied, ‘I mean it, it must 
be, and one week from to-day. You 
never can know, my child, what has 
caused this, and if you love me, as 
I know you do, you will never ask 
either me or Mr. De Costa. And now 
my child go to your mother and if 
you love her make no opposition!' 
My mother’s haggard face and swol- 
len eyes told me what I need not ask, 
she only begged me for my father s 
sake to consent, which, you know, I 
did. The strain was so great upon 
my mother that she never left her 
bed that week and I was her constant 
attendant. One night while she slept 


40 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


1 wrote you beggring you to come to 
me and gave it to a servant to mail, 
who had probably been instructed, and 
I now see what I then thought was 
your indignation to be the treachery 
of my father. V! pass over my first 
personal interview with Mr. De Costa, 
in which I told him frankly that I did 
not and never could love him. The 
marriage with only my father and 
mother present occurred at the time 
mentioned and I was brought to this 
house, where I have been treated with 
the greatest cruelty, denied the care 
and love of my child.” 

“Corona, you love me. Flee from 
this house, — the carriage waiting to 
take me from you is at the door. Go 
with me, leave this wretch behind 
you," 

Corona started back, “Oh! no, Geof- 
frey, I do not love my husband, 1 
hate him, but I will not dishonor my- 
self or bring shame upon my child. 
Go, Geoffrey, and carry with you my 
love.” And he went. 

Corona sank into a chair and .burst 
into tears. Mr. De Costa opened the 
curtains and stepped out. Corona 
gave a horrified scream, and shrank 
in terror, for he, livid with anger, 
stood before her, and, controlling his 
voice, said, “Go to your room, madam.” 
She fied, he following, and as she en- 
tered he locked the door and took the 
key, came down and left the house. 

The next morning he entered her 
room. She was lying upon a couch, 
dressed as she had been the day be- 
fore. He stood before her and said, 
“It is impossible for you to remain 
in this house. I should perhaps kill 
you, and I do not wish the shame of 
a divorce. To-morrow, at nine, a 
carriage will be at the door; you will 
take a steamer, after joining your 
mother, and go by the Mediterranean 
to Italy, where you will remain until 
such time as you are cabled to come 
home, and the world will understand 
that your health requires it. Your 
address will always be Brown Bros, 
in London, and an ample sum will 
be placed there for you quarterly. 
Marie has recei\<ed directions from 
me, and she will arrange your de- 
parture. Upon reaching the steamer, 
you will be met by a woman, whom 


I have engaged to be your companion, 
and in whose discretion I can rely to 
keep my name from dishonor. You 
will not leave this room,” he added, 
“until you go down to your carriage.” 
He gave her one long, crushing look, 
which she returned with her eyes on 
fire. 

That night he paced the corridor until 
nearly morning, then went to his bed, 
and the ever faithful Marie laid little 
Grace, sleeping, in her heart-broken 
mother’s arms for a long, perhaps a 
last embrace, and at nine in the morn- 
ing Corona left the house. 

Twenty-tjhree weary years had 
passed, when one morning a cable- 
gram was put in her hands, which 
read, “Corona, come home. Ferdinand 
De Costa.” 

We left her standing by the steam- 
er’s rail white with dread. What was 
she _ called home for? should she see 
her child? would De Costa’s dreadful 
face appear? She clutched the rail, 
scarcely able to stand, when a man, 
whom she recognized as De Costa’s 
lawyer, approached her and said, 

“Mrs. De Costa, I bring you bad 
news. Mr. De Costa was found dead 
in his library yesterday morning.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

The identity of the sender of the 
miniature remained for the present a 
mystery. John Gardner could elicit 
no information from the express of- 
fice beyond the fact that the package 
had been despatched from New York, 
and the date of its receipt by the 
company. 

As for Gardner himself, he found his 
only resource in the work that lay at 
his hand. He set about this with 
feverish eagerness, following his in- 
vestigations night and day: seeming 
never to tire, hardly ever to pause,* 
save for occasional visits of inquiry 
and sympathy at the door of the sick 
room. He believed that at last his in- 
vestigations and experiments on Table 
Rock were to be rewarded with suc- 
cess. 

On a convenient level spot, a few 
feet square and about half-way up 
the slope of the mountain, Gardner 
had constructed his rude miner’s hut. 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


41 


Here he kept his kit of tools, his little 
assortment of chemicals, for assay- 
ing after a rude fashion his specimens 
of rock, and a few simple cooking 
utensils. Here he took his rest, ate 
his lunch, boiled his tea or coffee; 
sometimes even, when he was hot up- 
on the trail, and so stopped out over 
night, he would cook himself here a 
savory steak, — venison, moose, or bear, 
— a ^ banquet fit for the gods; — and 
here, on an odorous bed of mountain 
fir and cedar boughs, drinking In the 
air like wine, he slept, — ^and slept, 
despite all anxiety and care, despite 
the pangs of love unavowed, uncer- 
tain of its object, such sleep as school- 
boys know, escaping to a summer 
camp deep in the pine woods, by some 
stream where trout abound. Thus the 
healthy body, that ensures the healthy 
mind, was kept in vigorous repair; 
for John Gardner knew that he must 
not fail or fall. 

And then there came a day, a fate- 
ful day, — when, returning from the 
other side and over the crest of Table 
Rock; bearing pick-axe and shovel on 
his shoulder, and with his pockets 
filled, as usual, with specimens, he 
sought his hut, just as the shades of 
evening were coming on, to make, for 
the hundredth time, his experimental 
assays. He reached the hut, emptied 
his pockets of their load, brought out 
the chemicals, and went at it. For 
some time he worked, with knitted 
brow and every faculty concentrated 
on the task at hand; consulting fre- 
quently a paper containing formulae 
that he had spread out before him, 
and making notes on a blank sheet, 
then comparing the one with the 
other. But it was not many minutes 
before his features began to betray 
an intense and increasing excitement, 
his hand to tremble so that he could 
hardly continue his notes; and then, 
at last, the great glow of an intense, 
unbounded joy burst forth, — the joy 
of the discoverer; — a new Colum- 
bus sighting a new world! Eu- 
reka! He had found it! The secret 

was there at last. For here was 
the rare formation, here was the won- 
derful blending of rocks and strata 
that was to be the geological promise 
of the fruition of the scientist’s dream. 


Of such was the rocky envelope, and 
folded deep within, at the very core 
and heart, unless all signs should fail, 
lay the precious matrix; — and its 
name was Karlium! That was the 
body, of which this should be the soul. 
“This very night, by moonlight, — for 
the moon is at the full,” — said John 
Gardner, — and his voice trembled with 
suppressed emotion, — “I shall try the 
experiment, make the supreme test. 
By this all is lost or all is won!” 

It can be imagined with what im- 
patience he awaited the hour. It crept 
on with stealthy pace: but at length 
it came. The night was glorious; the 
air crisp and still, and the moon hung 
like a burnished shield in the sky. With 
the precious flask in his pocket, pick- 
axe flung over his shoulder, revolver 
at his belt, stout walking-stick in 
hand, Gardner set forth; scrambling 
up the short, but steep, ascent, then 
across the mountain’s crest, and along, 
skirting the edge on the opposite side, 
to the spot where he had collected a 
loose pile of stones, to serve as a land- 
mark; then down the sheer rock’s 
side by a zigzag course, until, just 
beneath the place where he had set 
his mark, he came to a peculiar-shap- 
ed knob or projection, that seemed to 
jut, or rather to exude, out of the 
mountain’s side, and which to the eye 
appeared of a composition strikingly 
different from the surrounding country 
rock. It was of extremely complex 
texture and of almost every conceiv- 
able shade and color, from palest yel- 
low to darkest violet and magenta, in 
irregular blotches, streaks, and mark- 
ings. In places the structure was of 
a hard, dark, metallic sheen; in others, 
dull, light, and porous; — the most re- 
markable geological conglomerate, to 
all seeming, that ever the eye of 
scientist had rested upon. It almost 
looked as though Nature, in some fit 
of primeval jocosity, had been trying 
here her 'prentice hand at a practical 
joke. 

Gardner stood for some moments, 
gazing at this amazing freak in al- 
most amused wonderment, despite the 
excitement under which he was labor- 
ing, so keenly did he appreciate the 
joke. Then he passed around to the 
further side of the projecting knob. 


42 


The Secret of Table Rock, 


where he had chipped off the speci- 
mens for his test, and was about to 
draw the flask from his pocket, when 
his eye was suddenly caught by a 
peculiar indentation in the ledge, a 
little to the right and below the pro- 
jection. This he had failed to notice 
before, and he stopped now to examine 
it. Judge of his speechless amazement 
on discovering that the outer cover- 
ing of rock had been chipped away, 
and that, it would appear, quite re- 
cently, over something like a square 
foot of the surface, to a depth of sev- 
eral inches, and that a circular hole, 
large enough to admit a man’s hand, 
had been smoothly bored into the 
solid rock. He poked his walking- 
stick into this cavity, but could not 
reach the end of it. Neither did the 
stick encounter any obstacle; but, — 
and his pulse stopped beating and 
his heart rose in a lump to his throat 
as he instantly divined the significance 
of this fact! — the trend of the myster- 
ious boring was in the direction of the 
projecting knob! Who, then, had been 
here before him? Was his marvellous 
discovery, after all, anticipated? Was 
the cup, — alas! — to be dashed from his 
lips? In the very flush of an antici- 
pated triumph before whose lustre the 
rose-tinted dawn herself was like to 
pale, were all these splendid hopes to 
Ije brought to naught, utterly anni- 
hilated in the twinkling of an eye? 
Could a kind Heaven be so cruel? 

By one supreme effort he pulled him- 
self together. Any attempt to resolve 
this new mystery, of so dire a portent, 
must be deferred. There was only 
one thing for him to do, and that was 
the thing he had set out to do; he 
must apply the critical test to the 
rock and apply it quickly. And so he 
takes out the flask, unscrews the top, 
bends down over the rocky surface 
and. just over a dull violet streak of 
porous texture, he applies the secretly 
compounded liquid, drop by drop. 
Slowly it fell, slowly it sank into the 
greedy pores, until all was absorbed; 
and then John Gardner stood and 
waited, — waited with straining eyes 
and bated breath and fists tight- 
clenched and teeth Arm-set, — waited, 
— was it minutes? — was it hours? — 
to him H seemed a century; — until 


out of the breathless silence, out of 
untold distances, out of the very 
yearning bowels of the earth, there 
came, as it seemed, the tolling of a 
bell. And yet not that, but a dim and 
ghostly detonation; as though in the 
subterranean depths some piece of 
hobgoblin artillery had gone off by 
mistake, and its echoes had travelled 
upward, through the mellowing mines 
of virgin gold. Once! twice! — three 
times it sounded; and then all was 
still. All to the ear was still; but 
the watchful eye then caught the sign. 
For slowly, imperceptibly, there rose 
from out the porous rock, and then 
up, gradually, gently, up, — up towards 
the waiting moon, — not a mist, but the 
wraith of a mist, — not a cloud or va- 
por, but so fleecy and gauze-like a 
thing that nothing of earth, save a 
microbe, could have maintained foot- 
ing upon it: so light and shadowy and 
aerial that the ghost of a departed 
joy could scarce have wrapped its 
folds about his form. And yet, though 
so ethereal, one felt at once that there 
was something mephitic and miasmic 
about this shadowy nonentity. For 
its color was a pale and sickly green, 
and it seemed like unto the noisome 
vapors that rise from off the scum- 
covered surface of some dank tarn 
in an oozing swamp and curl and 
wind their way, with serpentine sin- 
uosity, among the Wangled juniper 
and thick undergrowth of noisome 
weeds, bearing fever and death-deal- 
ing pestilence in their wake. And 
then the” breath of this wraith-like 
thing! How shall I describe it? What 
words can I And in the vocabulary 
of earth even to suggest that which, 
in its composite effect, had naught of 
earth about it, and yet whose compon- 
ents, if ever it could have been ana- 
lyzed, seemed to suggest the most di- 
verse ingredients of earth, air, and 
sea? Most strange and incomprehen- 
sible mixture! Surely no hash was 
ever offered to the palate so complex 
as this hash of odors! It had some- 
what of sweetish, and somewhat of 
brackish; it had something of the in- 
toxicating fragrance of lillies, and still 
more of the pungency of fried onions; 
it had a haunting presence and a last- 
ing memory. It was one of those 


Ihe Secret of Table Rock. 


43 


smells that assail and carry the por- 
tals of the nostrils, and then sit down 
within t^ make their home there, evok- 
ing memories of lost lives and forgotten 
boarding-houses. John Gardner car- 
ries it with him still, and every morn- 
ing he breathes the fervent prayer 
that the day of his deliverance may 
come. 

The spell cast over him lat the 
moment and on the spot of his dis- 
covery was long in passing; butj 
gradually he was roused from the 
hypnotic state by the slow-dawning 
consciousness that the light of the 
moon had become darkened. Glanc- 
ing up to ascertain the cause, he was 
startled to perceive, standing at the 
top of the cliff, the tall figure of a 
man, in a rough miner’s cap and 
blouse, his long silver locks glint/- 
ing in the moonshine, like burnished « 
steel, with hand outstretched threat- 
eningly in Gardner’s direction. 

“.Touch but your hand to that rock 
again,’’ came the warning in a voice 
of thunder, — “and this whole moun- 
tain-side will be blown into Hades!’’ 
And then the figure turned and van- 
ished. 

John Gardner stood as if petrified, 
for he had recognized the Lone Fish- 
erman of Bitter Creek! 


CHAPTER XII. 

Although a man with nerves of iron, 
which could withstand any ordinary 
shock, it must be confessed that John 
Gardner’s thirst for the discovery of 
Karlium had received a most serious 
check. The threat made by the “Lone 
Fisherman’’ could not be disregarded 
by any sane man. So our hero reluct- 
antly gathered together his tools, 
thrust into his pocket the flask, now 
emptied of it^s precious fluid, and, 
quietly descending the mountainside, 
made his way back to the hotel. He 
spent the remainder of the night won- 
dering who this enemy might be, who 
had suddenly risen as from the bowels 
of the earth, and, above all, how much 
of the precious secret he knew. That 
the hoped-for discovery was in grave 
danger was beyond a doubt, and he 
turned over and over in his mind 


plans by which this danger might be 
averted. He resolved that in the 
morning he would set about at once 
his investigation of the mystery. 

But events were to happen that day, 
which should drive all thoughts of 
“Lone Fishermen’’ of discoveries of 
untold treasure from his mind for 
some time to come. He was, after all, 
not yet thirty, and very human, and 
love had been knocking at his heart, 
demanding entrance, ever siince his 
eyes first rested upon the beautiful 
face of Grace De Costa, It was only 
by a superhuman effort that he had 
resisted the temptation to cast aside 
all obstacles, beat down all barriers, 
and go to the woman he loved, to 
claim her as his own and try to make 
her love him in return at all costs. 
Fortunately for the success of his 
wooing, there had been a barrier, and 
a most substantial one, in the shape 
of Grace’s aunt, Mrs. Pettis. She had 
stood at the door of the sick-room, 
like the angel with the flaming sword 
before the gates of Paradise, barring 
the way. And every look and every 
tone of her voice, when she replied 
to his anxious inquiries, seemed to 
say, — “So far shalt thou go and no 
farther!’’ ’Tis small wonder that the 
poor fellow was discouraged and 
plunged into his investigations with 
renewed vigor, hoping in this way to 
still the longing of his heart and to 
divert his mind. But this obstacle was 
to be mercifully removed, and John 
Gardner was not the man to lose the 
opportunity thus gained to make hay 
while the sun shone. 

Had he but known it, the prize was 
already more than half won; for with 
returning health had come to Grace a 
most overwhelming longing to see the 
handsome fellow 'who had so gallantly 
rescued her from death. The enforc- 
ed separation had brought the flower 
of love into the bud, and it now need- 
ed but the warm touch of sunlight, 
which he alone could give, to burst 
into blossom. 

Mrs. Pettis had received the night 
before most disturbing news from 
Ogden. The state meeting of the 
S. C. R. A. P., at which she was to 
have presided, had passed, and the 
vice-president had reigned in her 


44 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


stead; but the annual convention at 
Washington was at hand, and, as pre- 
sident of her branch of the society, 
it was her duty as well as her pleas- 
ure to attend this convention. When 
she had received the news of Grace’s 
accident she had bravely put aside 
all thought of going, — though it was 
of the utimost importance that she 
should be there to settle certain mat- 
ters of dispute which had arisen 
among the members of the society 
and which could be adjusted only by 
appealing to the Congress at Wash- 
ington. However, she had an alter- 
nate, in whom she placed implicit 
confidence, who would go in her place 
and who had promised to carry out 
her designs to the letter. Now the 
distracting news had come that this 
alternate had been stricken down with 
fever, and she must either go her- 
self or give the business over into the 
hands of the second alternate, a per- 
son whose views on the subject dif- 
fered radically from her own. Poor 
woman! What should she do? Grace 
was much better and the doctor had 
assured them that the next day she 
could be dressed and carried out on 
the broad piazza of the hotel. The 
faithful Phoebe was here to mount 
guard, and one could go to Washing- 
ton, attend the convention, and be 
back inside of two weeks. Her one 
fear had been John Gardner and his 
possible passion for Grace, which she 
half suspected. But she had noticed 
that he seemed so absorbed in some 
mysterious business of late that her 
fears had been somewhat allayed. 

“It is foolish of me,” Mrs. Pettis 
said to herself, “to fancy that just 
because Mr. Gardner happened to be 
on the spot at the right moment to 
save Grace, he must necessarily fol- 
low the traditional lines of the hero 
of romance and fall in love with her. 
Both Grace and Phoebe urge me to 
go, and go I shall, — for this insurrec- 
tion in our beloved society must be 
nipped in the bud at all costs of per- 
sonal comfort and convenience!” 

And go she did, taking the eleven 
o’clock train that morning for the 
East, escorted to the station by a 
most obsequious and gallant young 
gentleman by the name of Gardner, 


in whose mouth, to use a somewhat 
vulgar expression, “butter would not 
melt.” Had she witnessed the wild 
war-dance of joy indulged in by this 
same young gentleman upon his re- 
turn to the hotel, in the secret re- 
cesses of his chamber, I fear she 
would have hastily alighted from the 
train at the next station and hurried 
back to her charge. 

Even had she done so, she would 
hardly have been in time to avert 
the coming catastrophe; for Gardner 
was not one to let the grass grow un- 
der his feet, and almost as soon as 
her back was turned he was em- 
bracing both the opportunity and the 
girl. 

On his way to the noon -day dinner, 
— a custom still in vogue at Bitter 
Creek, — he was waylaid, coming down 
stairs, by Phoebe, who inquired if he 
could and would assist them in bring- 
ing Grace onto the piazza after 
dinner. He most certainly could and 
would, and the poor fellow was so 
excited at the mere prospect of such 
joy that he could not do justice, as 
was his wont, to the remarkably good 
fare served by Mrs. Lynch. This fact 
was noticed by that good woman, as 
dish after dish came back untastecr 
to the kitchen; causing her to remark 
to the under-cook: — “Arrah! arran: 
the bye must be sick or in love! Divil 
the time did I see him go off his feed 
til the day!” Which shows that this 
worthy person added penetration to 
her many virtues. 

Later, when the entire force **in the 
hotel was called upon to assist in 
escorting Miss De Costa out to the 
piazza, and installing her comfortably 
in a steamer-chair on the shady side, 
Mrs. Lynch had a chance to exercise 
this virtue once again. She was so 
impressed by the look of rapture and 
devotion in John Gardner’s face, as 
he tenderly carried Grace in his arms, 
that her soft Irish heart melted with- 
in her, and she then and there resolv- 
ed to work for him and in his cause. 
So in a few moments she called Phoebe 
to her and kept her at work, as well 
as all the other servants in the hotel. 
She told Phoebe that no one but her- 
self could put in order the room in 
which Miss De Costa had been ill so 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


45 


long, and she kept her there and 
would not let her go until everything 
shone as if new, from the scrubbing 
and polishing given by Phoebe. 

Thus the blissful hours alone with 
Grace were given John Gardner for 
which he had longed, but hardly dar- 
ed hope; and he never knew to whom 
he owed this blessing. The shady side 
of the piazza was enveloped in trees, 
which hid it from the high-road, and 
there John Gardner told his love — 
that story which is ever new. He fol- 
lowed his instinct and found the direct 
road to a woman’s heart — which is al- 
ways impetuosity, with no thought of 
time or place or the future. 

I know the modern novelist is apt 
to make the woman do more than half 
the wooing, and I consider it one of 
the sure signs of the degeneracy of 
the times, which I trust our reader 
deplores as much as does the writer. 
But in this case it was good old-fash- 
ioned love-making, and while Grace 
was not the drooping, half-hearted 
heroine of the olden time, still neither 
was she the bold-faced chit of the pre- 
sent day, according to modern fiction. 
She was too carried away by the storm 
of impassioned words of love, longing, 
and entreaty, which came from Gard- 
ner’s very heart, to make much re- 
sponse in ‘words. But when he clasped 
her, unresisting, to him, and kissed her 
upon the lips, her responsive kiss told 
the whole story, and the simple 
words, “I love you too, John,” quite 
satisfied him. 

When Phoebe returned an hour later, 
full of remorse and apology for her 
prolonged absence, she was amazed 
and alarmed at the soft glow, as of 
returning health, and the bright light 
in the eyes of the beautiful girl. She 
feared fever and hustled Grace into 
the house, so that love passages were 
over for that day. To ' be together in 
the same room, however, was happi- 
ness for both, and the early bed-time, 
which brought separation, came all too 
soon. 

By all known rules of law and order 
John Gardner should have passed a 
restless night; but, far from it, feel- 
ing that he had accomplished the su- 
preme act of his life and with only 
happy longings for the future, he fell 
into a blissful sleep, which lasted until 


he was awakened by the rising-bell, 
which always rang in “The Great West- 
ern Hotel” at the witching hour of six. 

So the golden days passed, every one 
in the hotel realizing perfectly the 
state of affairs and all rejoicing over 
it, and Phoebe above all, for she saw 
the blessed change in her beautiful 
charge, and, realizing that love is the 
greatest of all physicians, she put no 
stumbling block in their path. If the 
truth must be confessed, the thought 
of the horror and chagrin she believed 
would be felt by Mrs. Pettis, when she 
learned the truth, caused Phoebe great 
satisfaction, arid she and Mrs. Lynch 
chuckled and laughed over it many 
times. 

Meanwhile Grace had received two 
letters from her aunt. She wrote that 
all had not gone as she could have 
wished. It was strange that when she 
faced the Congress at Washington she 
found herself of but little importance. 
And she could not, try as she might, 
bring them to her way of thinking; as 
she could so easily the good women 
of her society in Ogden, who would 
follow her like sheep jumping over 
a gate. However, she had done all she 
could, and the convention was over, 
and she was on her way back — a sad- 
der, but a wiser woman — and would 
be with her darling Grace the next 
morning if all went well. Grace read 
this last piece of information to John 
with a sinking heart. She did not feel 
that her aunt could make any real 
objection to the match, or her father 
either, for that matter; but they both 
felt that the return of Mrs. Pettis 
would bring to an end this beautiful 
dream in which they had been living, 
and they knew it could never come 
again, though it should be followed, as 
they both hoped and believed, by a 
long and happy life spent together. 

After supper that evening they wan- 
dered out together towards Table 
Rock; for Grace was quite strong 
again, and John had told her of the 
wonderful discovery he felt sure he 
was upon the eve of making. He had 
not told her of the apparition of the 
“Lone Fisherman,” for fear of alarm- 
ing her needlessly, and she was anxious 
to see the place where he had been 
at work before her aunt should return 
and possibly prevent these nightly 
strolls. 


46 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


They never knew how near death 
came to them that night; for as they 
rounded the last curve in the ledge on 
the mountainside, a dark face gazed 
at them with a look of unutterable 
hate from beneath the knob of remark- 
able rock they had come to examine. 
But the hand outstretched trembled 
and faltered, for human nature was 
too strong, and one look into the 
happy, beautiful face of John’s com- 
panion had been enough. With a mut- 
tered curse the hidden figure stole si- 
lently away, and they were left un- 
molested to their Investigations and 
their blissful dream of love. • 

The next day, with a brave face but 
a quaking heart, Gardner went to the 
station to meet Mrs. Pettis. Grace’s 
last words as she bade him adieu, 
“Don’t worry, John, dear, I will fix it 
all right with Aunty; just leave it to 
me,’’ — gave him some small degree of 
courage. Polite generalities only were 
indulged in until they reached the 
hotel, and John watched Mrs. Pettis 
disappear into Grace’s room with a 
sinking heart. 

He paced restlessly up and down the 
hall outside for an hour; then Grace’s 
face appeared at the door, smiling and 
happy, and there was a triumphant 
ring in her voice as she cried — “John, 
dear, come here and kiss your new 
aunt!’’ What arguments Grace had 
used to plead their cause John never 
knew. It was happiness enough to be 
warmly welcomed by Mrs. Pettis, and 
to be told that he was a ’“saucy boy” 
to steal a march on her while she was 
away; but that she hoped he realized 
what a treasure he" had won, aiid 
would try to be worthy of her. These 
last sentiments were most heartily and 
humbly echoed by Gardner, and they 
at once plunged into plans for the 
immediate hegira to Ogden — to which 
metropolitan center of activity Mrs. 
Pettis was most anxious to reurn as 
soon as possible. 

Poor Mrs. Lynch and Phoebe were 
amazed and, it must be confessed, 
disappointed at the smiling gracious- 
ness displayed by Mrs. Pettis to all be- 
holders. But they had little time for 
wonder and speculation, for the next 
few hours were filled with the bustle 
of preparation for departure. In which 
all joined! 


Grace had arranged with Phoebe 
sometime before that she should go 
with her as lady’s maid, which posi- 
tion she was only too glad to fill for 
the beautiful daughter of her former 
beloved mistress; and while Mrs. 
Lynch was sorry to lose her, she could 
but rejoice at Phoebe’s good fortune. 

John longed most ardently to go with 
them to Ogden, but he realized that it 
was his duty to stay at Bitter Creek 
finish his investigations, and solve the 
mystery of the “Lone Fisherman’’, if 
possible. 

“In a little while I shall be with 
you again, darling, “he whispered ten- 
derly as he held Grace in his arms for 
the last time. “I know you will be 
brave for my sake.’’ And Grace tried 
with all her strength to smile through 
the mist of tears which blinded her 
eyes as the train moved out of the 
staion, and she looked back at the tall 
graceful figure of her lover, as he 
stood bareheaded In the sunshine 
waving his good-bye, and fianked by 
the entire population of Bitter Creek, 
which had comie en masse to wish 
them God-speed! 


CHAPTER XIII. 

We left Corona De Costa standing 
upon the steamer’s deck clutching the 
rail and simply staring with wide- 
open eyes and a face from which 
every particle of color had fied, into 
that of the old lawyer, who had 
spoken those fearful words. She 
opened her dry lips as though to 
speak, but no sound came forth. 

“Mrs. De Costa,’’ Mr. Harris said, 
“your carriage is waiting, — allow me 
to conduct you,’’ and he placed her 
limp arm within his own and walked 
down the bridge. Corona turned her 
head and gave to Mayhew a mute 
pleading look and he followed. Hav- 
ing placed her in the carriage, Mr. 
Harris returned to the steamer. The 
hands of these two people met in a 
firm clasp and Corona said, “Send me 
your address and come when I send 
for you.’’ A pressure of the hand, eye 
meeting eye, and he was gone. 

Mr. Harris soon returned, entered 
the carriage and seating himself op- 
posite its occupant, sat for a few 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


47 


minutes in silence, then said, "Mrs. 
De Costa, it may remove restraint and 
prevent some embarrassment if I tell 
you frankly that I had Mr. De Costa’s 
entire confidence, not only in a busi- 
ness way but in his domestic matters 
as well. You will pardon me, but I 
knew of your leaving home .and why 
you went," (a vivid flush sprang to 
the cheek of his listener.) "In fact I 
made all the arrangements for your 
hurried departure — and you will al- 
low me to add that you had my deep- 
est sympathy. Mr. De Costa often 
talked with* me upon the subject and 
the absolute correctness of your life 
abroad softened his heart, and as old 
age crept on and a feeling of loneli- 
ness encompassed him, his daughter 
being away at school, and hawing few 
friends, he began, at rare moments, to 
express his regret at the course he had 
pursued, freely saying that it was a 
spirit of revenge, born of jealousy that 
his beautiful young wife had told him 
that she did not, and never could, love 
him, that her heart was irrevocably 
given to another. 

"About three weeks ago he came to 
my private office greatly depressed in 
spirit and spoke very freely of his 
ruined life, saying that had he treat- 
ed his wife as he ought to have done, 
she would in time have learned to 
love him, that their child would have 
drawn them together; instead of that 
he said, pacing the floor, he had kept 
the child away from the young mother, 
outraging every womanly, motherly 
instinct and depriving his little daugh- 
ter of that for which there was no 
compensation, — a mother’s love and 
tender care. His obsequious servants, 
under his instructions, turned away 
from the door the few people that she 
knew and if she went out a footman 
was instructed to follow, which at 
once had the desired effect of keeping 
her in. The poor girl might as well 
have been a prisoner in the castle of 
Chillon — no wonder her broken heart 
turned to one who loved her and so 
intensely, so devotedly, that life to 
him had been a failure, and even in 
that last interview when she had so 
firmly repulsed him and so nobly de- 
fended her husband’s honor, in re- 
fusing to flee from her life of misery. 


Then standing in front of me, this 
hard, proud man, with the tears steal- 
ing down his cheeks, asked me if 1 
thought it was too late. Could it be 
possible that such conduct might be 
forgiven and atoned for by the devo- 
tion of what was left of life? I could 
not answer the question, but I said 
to myself, ‘an angel might, but the 
average woman’ — I said she may come 
home to her daughter. He paced the 
room with bent head, then went over 
to my desk and wrote the cablegram, 
which you received and when in a 
few hours your reply came, stating the 
vessel upon which you would sail, Mr. 
De Costa was another man and he be- 
gan with feverish anxiety to set his 
house in order. The furniture and 
the rugs were getting shabby, he said, 
and he would have new and the best. 
Upon your room he lavished all that 
his exquisite taste could suggest to 
make it beautiful. 

“He had been in Europe several 
times during the last twenty years, 
spending weeks at a time within sight 
of your residence — wishing to go to 
you, but held back by the demon of 
pride. In Florence he found, at a 
photographer’s, a miniature of you, 
which he recently sent to his daugh- 
ter." 

Corona was sitting ' with the tears 
falling upon her clasped hands; now 
for the first time she spoke, eagerly 
asking, “Oh, where is my daughter, 
tell me!” 

"She is in Ogden, Utah, on a visit 
to her aunt, Mrs. Pettis, and I only 
await your orders to . summon her 
home." 

"I beg of you to wire quickly, only 
telling her that her father is ill.” 

Mr. Harris continued, "There is a 
young man, a Mr. Gardner, at Bitter 
Creek, a few miles from Ogden, who 
was sent out by a friend of Mr. De 
Costa’s upon some expert mining busi- 
ness, and he must be called home now. 
I will wire him, with your consent, 
to go to Ogden and bring Miss Grace 
to New York." 

Corona bowed her head in acquies- 
cence. Mr. Harris further said, "He 
caused me to draw up a will giving 
you during your lifetime the use of 


48 


The Secret of Table Rock 


his large fortune; at your death the 
property becomes his daughter’s.” 

“You told me Mr. De Costa was 
found dead— in bed I presume?” 

"No, in the library.” 

“Was it heart trouble?” 

“It was not decided what caused his 
death,” Mr. Harris replied, and added, 
“Here we are,” as the carriage drew 
up to the curb. 

The footman opened the door, and 
leaning heavily upon the arm of her 
companion Mrs. De Costa with bowed 
head went up the broad steps of 
granite, and entered her home. The 
dim lights, the suppressed voices, the 
noiseless footsteps tell that the King 
of Terrors has entered that household 
and that one lies prone, and shall lie 
’till the arch-angel’s trump shall 
sound. 

Although this sad woman had come 
to her very own, she stood in the 
foyer as a stranger, not knowing where 
to go, when there came rapidly from 
the rear a tall, dignified, white-haired 
lady, whom she instantly recognized 
as the housekeeper, who had been very 
kind to her and in many unspoken 
ways had shown her sympathy. As 
she came near, she held out her two 
arms and gathered Corona to her heart, 
drew the sobbing women into her own 
room and petted and comforted her as 
a mother might a sorrowing child. 
When her tears were spent and she 
had become calm, Mrs. Newton sug- 
gested her going to her own room. 
Every step of the way was as a dag- 
ger thrust, so well did she remember 
that last night of agony, when for a 
few hours her sleeping babe had lain 
in her bosom^ apd she had gone out 
of that room as Hagar was thrust in- 
to the wilderness, only the happy 
Hagar had her little Ishmael with 
her; and she stopped at the door un- 
able to enter until gently urged by a 
touch of Mrs. Newton’s hand. She 
gazed speechless at the elegance which 
had been provided for her home com- 
ing, and she murmured “Too late, too 
late!” Then raising her eyes and 
turning toward the mantel she saw, 
in the place of honor, the portrait in 
oils — in fact one of Sargent’s latest — 
of a beautiful girl. She turned to Mrs. 
Newton, but she had gone. She clasp- 


ed her hands and gazed as ^hough she 
would take the picture in her arms, 
and with a fiood of tears cried, “My 
child, my child, my beautiful Grace, 
come to me!” and sinking into a 
chair she still looked at the face 
which smiled at her, the eyes follow- 
ing her, and murmuring sweet words 
of love and motherly tenderness, ’till 
she was aroused by the entrance of a 
maid with a tray of refreshment, of 
which she was in great need. 

Following this came a summons to 
go down to meet Mr. Harris. A long 
conversation followed in which her 
wishes were consulted with regardi 
to the arrangements for the funeral of 
Mr. De Costa, it being decided that this 
should not occur until Grace should 
have come home. He asked if there 
was anything else he could do for her. 
A gentle shake of the head was her 
reply. He now asked if she would 
like to see Mr. De Costa. She arose 
to her feet, every vestige of color 
leaving her face. Mr. Harris offered 
his arm, which she took, and they 
slowly walked down the long drawing- 
room, through the library and into 
Mr. De Costa’s study. Mr. Harris 
quietly turned down the covering 
from the form lying upon the couch 
a.nd left the room. 

Corona remained standing near the 
door. A feeling as though a hand was 
clutching her heart held her gasping 
for breath, and it seemed as though 
she had been in a dream and the old 
life with all its tyranny was upon 
her. But her strong womanly nature 
asserted itself and she moved for- 
ward and stood beside and looked down 
upon that face, so calm, so still, so 
peaceful. She gazed long and a feel- 
ing of remorse came that she had hat- 
ed that helpless man, so powerless 
now to injure her, and she shuddered 
as she thought how many times she 
had wished him dead. She laid her 
warm hand upon his brow and ex- 
claimed, “O, Ferdinand, my husband, 
my poor husband, is it thus we meet 
after twenty weary cruel years, every 
day of which has left a blister spot 
upon my memory? You took my 
young life into your hands. You pro- 
mised before God at the altar to love 
and cherish me. Did you do it? From 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


49 


day to day you trampled upon every 
instinct that a woman holds dear; 
with a refinement of cruelty you kept 
my little baby in the hands of hire- 
lings and away from me; you denied 
visitors to the house through your 
well trained servants; my father 
through you became a wanderer upon 
the face of the earth; my mother dieo 
of a broken heart, and what have you 
to say — why do you not answer me?” 

She turned away and paced the 
room sobbing bitterly. When this par- 
oxysm of grief and anger had passed, 
she returned to the couch and taking 
his cold hand in both of hers said, 
‘‘Forgive me, my husband, I too was 
to blame. I should have arisen in 
womanly might and demanded differ- 
ent treatment, demanded my right as 
the head of my house, and the con- 
trol and care of my child — but Oh! 
my youth and inexperience! I was 
but a child and as clay in your hands. 
Looking back through the mists of 
years, I can see it all — those dreary 
days and sleepless nights. And you 
have tried, my husband, with tears 
of repentance, to right the wrong, but 
you had sown the wind and must reap 
the whirlwind. I forgive you as I 
hope to be forgiven. Grooc^f-r^ightl, 
dear,” and she kissed the cold lips 
and went to her room. 


Our last glimpse of Grace De Costa 
was as she leaned from tlhe car win- 
dow to wave her hand to her hand- 
some lover, standing upon the plat- 
form of Bitter Creek station. A short 
ride brought them to Ogden, where 
Mrs. Pettis’s daughters were at the 
station awaiting their arrival, and 
with ill-concealed curiosity they ex- 
amined their new-found cousin. After 
a few words had been spoken, and 
they had silently inventoried her cos- 
tume, their tones became respectful, 
the half-suppressed smile left their 
lips and their eyes said to each other, 
“She is better than we expected.” 

After a night’s rest the full tide of 
calls, receptions, and teas set in and 
Grace was fairly launched into a 
social whirl the like of which she had 
never known, and she was happy, the 
admired of all admirers, and not par- 


ticularly loved by Mrs. Pettis’s plainer 
though literary daughters. 

At the close of three weeks of social 
dissipation, just after dinner one night, 
John Gardner appeared. He was 
courteously received by Mrs. Pettis 
and rapturously by Grace. Almost at 
once he told his story. Mr. De Costa 
was ill, not seriously, but he was wir- 
ed home on a matter of business and 
directed by Mr. Harris, whom Grace 
had known from a child, to bring her 
home, sparing no pains to make her 
comfortable, and he had wired that 
they would take the early morning 
train. All was now bustle and confu- 
sion; trunks were packed, and Phoebe, 
nothing loth, was asked to go with 
her. When in the dim morning light 
the train had passed out of sight, 
Mrs. Pettis told her family the real 
truth, that her brother had been mur- 
dered — it was not known by whom — 
and that Grace was to be kept in ig- 
norance of the fact as long as possi- 
ble; and she directed the cancelling 
of all their engagements, which 
brought tears t,o the eyes of the 
daughters. 

The train paused a minute at Bit- 
ter Creek station and passed on. Grace 
has the little stateroom at the end of 
the car and by her side sits Gardner, 
Phoebe occupying his seat in the car. 
The couple in the little stateroom are 
too happy to see the black shadow 
before them. She assures John that 
she is so glad Mr. Harris thought 
what a safe way it was to take her 
home, for she can be four days with 
her dear John, and she gives his hand 
a little squeeze, at the same time 
S9.ying that papa often had those ill 
turns, and often in a few days he 
came around all right; probably he 
was lonesome, poor old papa. She 
would be glad to see him; she had 
never been so long away from him, 
and she wanted to show him her boy, 
her sweetheart, who had saved her 
life, and here followed demonstra- 

tions. 

And thus the days fiew by and when 
the fourth had passed the long train 
drew into the Grand Central station 
in New York. The carriage, vlith 
Mr. Harris, was waiting. He met 
John cordially, making an appoint- 


50 


The Secret of Table Rock 


ment with him for that evening-. John 
pressed the little hand put out of the 
carriage window and said good-night. 

They reached the house and Grace 
flew up the steps, but stopped short, 
as though a blow had been given her, 
at the sight of the black crepe pen- 
dant from the doorknob. She was 
taken to the housekeeper’s room, 
where her grief was pitiable to be- 
hold. After a while Mrs. Newtfin 
said, “Miss Grace, my dear, you have 
lost your father but you have found 
your mother.” 

Grace caught her breath, and said, 
“What do you mean? I know that I 
have her picture, which some one 
sent me, but that Is not my mother, 
my poor, dear mother.” 

“No,” Mrs. Newton replied, “but 
your real live mother is in this house, 
waiting to see her daughter.” 

Grace sprang to her feet and with 
a fervent, “Thank God,” caught Mrs. 
Newton’s hand and said, “O, be quick, 
I can not wait, take me to her.” 

They went to Corona’s room, knock- 
ed at the door and a faint voice bade 
them enter. Corona was standing, a 
bright flush upon her cheek and a 
glad light in her eye. She wore a long 
trailing gown of some soft clinging 
black stuff and was supremely beauti- 
ful. Grace stood for a minute as 
though transfixed, but her mother 
opened her arms and Grace rushed 
into them. Mrs. Newton had gone 
down stairs. 


The private funeral is over, and the 
house is settling down to as great a 
degree of quiet as can be where such 
a tragedy has been enacted. As yet 
no clue has been obtained leading to 
the detection of whoever committed 
the crime. John Gardner has been 
received as the fiancee of Mrs. De 
Costa’s daughter. Geoffrey Mayhew is 
also received, and is a new man, with 
a light in his eye and a ring in his 
voice, and in a year and a half from 
now Corona will keep the promise she 
made so many years ago when life 
was young. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Attached to the Golden Gate ex- 
press, flying westward over the Union 
Pacific on the 16th day of June, 1903, 
was the private car “Muriel”, dedicat- 
ed to the u.ses of Mr. James Morley, 
chairman of the board of directors. 

The occupants of the car were Mr. 
Morley himself, his private secretary 
Harry Walton; Duncan Stewart, pre- 
sent head of the house of P. De Costa 
& Co., executor of the late senior part- 
ner’s will and trustee for his daughter 
and heiress; Paul Raymond, the well- 
known chemist and metallurgist; Herr 
Max Karl, honorary professor of che- 
mistry in the University of Berlin and 
recently arrived in New York; Mr. 
Grigson, the famous detective; and 
Dr. Logan Raymond, younger brother 
of Paul, and one of the most eminent 
brain and nerve specialists of his day. 

Some little explanation will be neces- 
sary to place the reader or listener in 
possession of the facts and circum- 
stances which had brought this com- 
pany together as fellow travellers in 
the “Muriel”. 

After the tragic and mysterious 
death of Ferdinand De Costa it ap- 
peared in the examination of his pa- 
pers and affairs that he held the title 
deeds to large tracts of territory sur- 
rounding in all directions the railway 
station and village of Bitter Creek, 
Wyoming. These lands had all been 
acquired by purchase and conveyance 
from their former owners within a 
period of about two years preceding 
Mr. De Costa’s death. In some of these 
deeds the consideration mentioned as 
payment was merely nominal; in oth- 
ers it was of such moderate amount, 
compared with the acreage conveyed, 
as to indicate that the land must be 
barren or unimproved and of small ap- 
parent value. 

Nothing was found among the dead 
banker’s papers to explain these pur- 
chases. and nothing was known con- 
cerning them by any of his business 
associates. But from various small cir- 
cumstances, such as the careful man- 
ner in which the deeds were kept among 
his most valuable securities, it was 
apparent that he considered them of 
importance; and with them was found 
a document carefully drawn up by 


XOTICE< 


By an error in printing, pages 51 and 52 are trans- 
posed. In reading pass from page 50 to 52—52 to 51 and 
51 to 53. 


*** tJvsWii-jVv r.\jst^ 


I 


The Secret of Table Rock, 


51 


marvellous mechanism was broken or 
displaced. Her mind, so far as its mu- 
tual inter-relations with the minds of 
her fellow beings was concerned, was 
gone. Sweet and gentle to a degree 
most pathetic and heart-breaking to 
those who loved her; seeming to re- 
ceive into her consciousness, in some 
way, at least a partial understanding of 
communications addressed to her, she 
was, beyond this, not only absolutely 
cut off from all fellowship with other 
personalities but utterly and serenely 
unconscious of their existence. 

Her physical organization was, so 
far as could be determined, in perfect 
condition. The sight of the beautiful 
violet eyes was unimpaired. Her move- 
ments were free and natural, and were 
ordered with sweet and gentle ac- 
quiescence in any suggestions made 
by her attendants. In moving about 
she avoided contact with material ob- 
jects, not in that evidently instinctive 
way peculiar to the blind, but plainly 
by the use of normal vision. And yet 
there was not the slightest indication 
that she actually saw, as those in or- 
dinary condition see, any person or 
object that was visible to those about 
her. Her eyes, gentle and steady, seem- 
ed to gaze calmly through all material 
objects within the range of ordinary 
vision, and rest upon things so far 
distant as to be entirely beyond its 
limits. 

She spoke little, and never once had 
she addressed a word to any person, 
or betrayed in any way the slightest 
consciousness of the presence or ex- 
istence of any living person or ma- 
terial object. In body she was a living, 
lovely presence; in spirit and mind 
she dwelt in another sphere of exist- 
ence, far beyond the confines of this 
world. 

To all appearance she was perfectly 
happy. No shadow of sorrow or sad- 
ness ever clouded her lovely face, and 
in her eyes dwelt the softened sunlight 
of perfect peace. At irregular intervals 
of a few days, she would pass into a 
peaceful slumber, lasting from twenty 
to forty hours, remaining for this 
period absolutely motionless except 
for the quiet, regular action of the 
heart, the gentle rhythmic breathing of 
healthful sleep, and the occasional 
flitting across her perfect lips of a 


smile as light as the kiss of a summer 
zephyr. 

Of course every known resource of 
science had been invoked — and ex- 
hausted — in the case. In this particular 
field Dr. Logan Raymond was recogniz- 
ed as the ultimate authority, and he 
had given to it every resource of his 
rare scientific attainments and still 
rarer intellectual and intuitive skill; 
for not only was he deeply interested 
in the case from a professional point 
of view, but he had known Grace De 
Costa from childhood and her sweet 
and beautiful personality was as dear 
to him as if she had been his own 
daughter. 

But every effort of human skill was 
utterly in vain, and Doctor Raymond, 
like his fellow specialists, was forced 
to admit the helplessness of science. 
There was nothing to be done but wait 
upon the wisdom and mercy of a high- 
er power. And with sad reluctance he 
was forced to admit that so far as any 
precedent or scientific research could 
be said to throw light upon the case 
there was, humanly speaking, no 
ground for hope. All the probabilities 
seemed to indicate that no improve- 
ment could be looked for and that 
finally — how near or how distant the 
day no human wisdom could foretell— 
there would come a change for the 
worse, and this pure, sweet young 
soul would take its flight into the 
realms beyond, where even now its 
higher faculties seemed to dwell. 

If any shadow of hope remained it 
must be in the direction of complete 
change of place and environment, on 
the chance that some new scene or 
circumstance might recall the wander- 
ing spirit and mend the broken link. In 
this view, he decidedly approved the 
suggestion that Grace should be taken 
for a time to her aunt in Ogden, and 
from thence in such directions as 
might seem advisable. Accordingly she 
had taken the journey a few weeks 
previous, accompanied by her mother 
and faithful Phoebe and under the 
escort of her broken-hearted lover 
John Gardner, of whose existence the 
stricken girl was now as completely 
oblivious as of all others in this world. 

Gardner had not accomplished very 
much in the business which took him 
to Bitter Creek while Grace remained 


52 


The Secret of Table Rock, 


Mr. De Costa’s own hand, setting forth 
that he held the titles to all these 
Wyoming lands in trust for the equal 
and join interest of himself and “my 
old friend the Herr Professor Max Karl 
of Berlin, Germany.” 

Mr. Stewart, as executor of his late 
partner’s estate, in due course des- 
patched an agent to Wyoming to ex- 
amine into the character and value of 
these properties. The agent reported 
that they all appeared to consist of 
barren tracts of rock, including a small 
mountain known as “Table Rock,” and 
several other hills or mountains, some 
smaller and some larger, but all equal- 
ly uninviting and apparently worth- 
less. 

But another feature of the agent’s 
report was more interesting: His in- 
vestigation ' disclosed the fact that a 
number of claims under the mining 
laws had been filed and staked on 
these properties since their purchase 
by Mr. De Costa, that some of the 
titles were uncertain, and that the 
rights of claimants or possible claim- 
ants to these, as well as some adja- 
cent tracts not covered by the De 
Costa purchases, had recently been ac- 
quired in the names of James Morley, 
Paul Raymond, John Gardner, and some 
other persons known to be connected 
with the Morley financial interests. 

The result of these discoveries was 
a conference between James Morley 
and Duncan Stewart, whose relations 
had been close and cordial, both per- 
sonally and in business matters for 
years past, and an agreement to sub- 
mit the whole matter to the joint ex- 
amination of their confidential coun- 
sel, with a view to some amicable ad- 
justment of the conflicting claims and 
interests. 

These legal luminaries reported in 
due time that only two courses were 
open: — an amalgamation of the va- 
rious titles, claims, and interests, or 
long and tedious, even though friend- 
ly litigation, in order to obtain a judi- 
cial determination of the rights of the 
various parties such as would set at 
rest all questions of title. And what 
the exact results would be they did 
not care to predict with certainty. 

Morley and Stewart promptly agreed 
’’pon the first-named alternative as 


best for all concerned, and it was ar- 
ranged to form a corporation which 
should take over all the various claims 
and titles, and the stock of which should 
be distributed among those in interest 
according to their equitable rights. 

All that remained to be done was to 
secure the approval of Professor Karl 
to this plan. A cablegram was des- 
patched urgently requesting his pre- 
sence in New York, in response to 
which he had recently arrived, given 
his cordial assent to the arrangement 
proposed, and in the course of pro- 
ceedings a strong mutual regard and 
friendship had been established be- 
tween the German scientist and his 
present travelling companions. 

The awful shock of her father’s 
death, the gradual revelation to her of 
the strange and inexplicable circum- 
stances of his cruel murder, the sud- 
den and unexpected return into her 
life of the mother who had been since 
childhood but a cher'ished dream — all 
these heavy drafts upon her emotions, 
coming so soon after her disquieting 
experience at Bitter Creek, her acci- 
dental injury there and the deep stir- 
ring of her heart by new and compli- 
cated sensibilities called into action by 
her love for John Gardner had no doubt 
rendered her less able than usual to 
meet them — proved too much for Grace 
De Costa’s strength. For some days 
she kept up as all thought most won- 
derfully, but it was on the stimulus of 
excitement, and one morning she was 
found delirious, recognizing neither her 
mother nor Phoebe. From that moment 
these two shared in most devoted and 
loving care of the patient so dear to 
both. 

For a time there was but little hope 
of averting brain fever, but finally her 
young and vigorous health asserted 
its underlying power and one morning 
she awoke after a deep sleep lasting 
nearly thirty hours, with normal pulse 
and temperature and every physical 
symptom indicating that the crisis had 
been safely passed. From that mo- 
ment her progress was rapid and in a 
surprisingly short time she had fully 
regained her normal health, strength, 
and beauty. 

But somewhere, alas, a link in the 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


53 


there after her accident in September. 
Although it is much to be feared that 
at this time he would have counted 
any service he could render her first 
in importance, there was really not 
much that he could do, after the first, 
and he conscientiously devoted a very 
full measure of his time to the search 
for Karlium. 

He had built a hunter’s cabin on 
Table Rock, and from this as a base 
he had gone forth to adventures and 
discoveries remarkable, weird, and 
malodorous; and, just as the treasure 
was within his grasp had been con- 
fronted and thwarted, like the seekers 
after Captain Kidd’s buried and goblin- 
guarded gold, by a confounding appari- 
tion in the likeness of the fisherman 
of the canyon. But, fortunately or 
otherwise, as may be, all these things 
were and happened while he was 
asleep. What with his anxiety about 
Grace’s health, about the prospects of 
his now serious and rapidly growing 
love for her, and the nerve strain that 
always comes from a continuous 
search for something, Gardner’s slum- 
bers at this time were generously il- 
lustrated with dreams. 

In point of fact and in his waking 
hours, he had really accomplished but 
little except in the way of elimination. 
He covered and disposed of a good 
deal of territory where Karlium was 
not to be found, and narrowed the 
search down pretty well to Table 
Rock Hill and its immediate vicinity; 
and after Grace went to Ogden he as- 
sisted a lawyer sent on from New York 
at his suggestion in locating claims 
and titles, but in this business had 
never chanced to discover any traces 
of Mr. De Costa’s interests there, as 
no conveyances in his name had been 
recorded. 

After the tragedy and return to New 
York the winter season soon coming 
on had of course precluded further 
work in Wyoming, even had Gardner 
been willing to go so far away from 
Grace, in her sad condition, so mat- 
ters rested until he accompanied her 
back to Ogden in May. Then he return^ 
ed to Bitter Creek, where he plunged 
into a continuance of his search and 
research with the intense energy of 
one who in utter despair turns to hard 


work and bodily fatigue as the only 
balm for such grievous hurts as he 
had suffered. 

On June 12th, four days before the 
opening of this chapter, Paul Raymond 
received a telegram in cipher, which 
being translated read as follows: 

“Have made astounding discoveries, 
of such character and importance that 
I do not feel like going further alone. 
Think parties interested, or full rep- 
resentation of them, should come here 
at once. 

“John Gardner.’’ 

A hurried conference was held and 
as it transpired that Mr. Morley was 
planning to leave two days later to at- 
tend an important railway meeting in 
San Francisco, it was promptly decid- 
ed that he would hasten his depar- 
ture. allowing for a stop at Bitter 
Creek, and that Professor Karl, Dun- 
can Stewart, and Paul Raymond 
should accompany him. 

On a second reading of the tele- 
gram Mr. Morley despatched his sec- 
retary with certain instructions the 
result of which was the addition to 
the party of Grigson the detective. 
And Paul Raymond paid a hurried 
visit to his brother, whose anxiety 
and affection for Grace De Costa per- 
suaded him to lay aside everything 
else and embrace the proffered oppor-* 
tunity to see again his interesting 
patient. 

All arrangements wdre perfected 
with that smooth celerity peculiar to 
the affairs of financial and railway 
magnates and within four hours from 
the receipt of Gardner’s telegram the 
answer flashed back over the wires: — 
.. “We leave at 10:30 to-night on the 
Chicago limited.’’ 

Some of Morley’s numerous business 
interests had demanded a few hours’ 
stop in Chicago, and now, on the af- 
ternoon of the third day, the “Muriel” 
was flying smoothly westward through 
the picturesque scenery of southeast- 
ern Wyoming. At every station of 
importance sheaves of telegrams were 
handed into the car for Mr. Morley, 
and he was occupied with his secre- 
tary in disposing of the last batch; 
Paul Raymond and Duncan Stewart 
were giving their attention to the 
scenery and a desultory conversation, 


54 


The Secret of Table Rock 


and Grigson was refreshing his mind 
with an intricate game of solitaire, 
with his back to one corner of the 
room, so that no interesting develop- 
ment in the art of crime which might 
unexpectedly come up should escape 
him. 

Professor Karl and Doctor Raymond 
had, from the beginning of the jour- 
ney, been very much interested in 
each other and much of the time ab- 
soi'bed in scientific discussions. The 
German scientist had by no means 
confined his studies or attjainmenta 
to chemistry, but with the thorough- 
ness characteristic of his race had 
gone far and deep into the problems 
of the human mechanism. Personally 
he was a typical and striking figure. 
Of about the medium height, with a 
strong “stocky” figure, his appearance 
was impressive by reason of the great 
head with its leonine shock of thick 
bushy hair, and the unusually bril- 
liant eyes, dark hazel in color, which, 
although he wore short-sighted glass- 
es, seemed to light up the rather 
heavy but distinctly intellectual fea- 
tures like electric lamps. 

These two men were seated in easy 
chairs near the end of the “Muriel’s” 
drawing room, and Doctor Raymond 
had been describing with all the de- 
tail of a close diagnosis the sad and 
remarkable case of Grace De Costa. 
The German had listened throughout 
with intense interest, occasionally in- 
terpolating a question, and as the des- 
cription neared scientific completion 
his wonderful eyes fairly blazed with 
excitement until, as Doctor Raymond 
finished, forgetting his English en- 
tirely, with a quick, explosive “Kom- 
me her!” he seized him by the lapel 
of his coat, dragged him to one of the 
private compartments and closed the 
door — all with such excited emphasis 
that Grigson would no doubt have 
entertained hopes of business in his 
line, had he not learned something of 
German impulsiveness and vigor in 
expression from previous experience. 

When they emerged, half an hour 
later. Doctor Raymond looked rather 
pale, and his face wore the expression 
of one who has received some very 
startling intelligence which he has not 
yet fully assimilated; and the Herr 


Professor’s eyes were still shining 
with excitement, while his lips were 
set in a positive line, expressive of 
masterful confidence. Both men forth- 
with betook themselves to the weed 
which at once aids and quiets refiec- 
tion; and absorbed in thought and 
smoke spake no further word until 
Rawiins had been left well behind 
and the porters had begun to collect 
baggage and personal belongings for 
the journey’s end. 

Bitter Creek was reached on time, 
and John Gardner was waiting at the 
station to receive them. The “Muriel” 
was sent on, with its crew, to Ogden 
to await the further orders of the 
magnate, and the party made their 
way to “The Great Western Hotel,” 
where arrangements for their comfort 
had been made by Gardner. After a 
most excellent supper prepared by 
Mrs. Lynch and her satellites had been 
discussed and appreciated, fallowed by 
a short walk about the small village, 
the party met in tjhe parlor of the 
hotel to listen to Gardner’s report of 
his progress and thts unexpected dis- 
coveries which had led to his tele- 
gram. With scientific terms eliminat- 
ed, and stated as briefiy as possible, 
this report was in substance as fol- 
lows: — 

Since his return to Bitter Creek 
this time he had continued his inves- 
tigation on practically the same lines 
as before, taking careful surveys and 
observations to determine the trend 
of the geological strata of the vicinity, 
and applying Raymond’s acid test to 
locate traces of the mineral Karlium. 
As Table Rock Hill and its immediate 
vicinity seemed to yield the most pro- 
mising results, he had concentrated 
his efforts here to a large extent. 

From the length of time required 
to obtain a reaction from the com- 
bined acids, and from other indica- 
tions, he had become convinced that 
the deposits of Karlium were uniform- 
ly found in the lower portion of the 
rock formation. This rule held good 
whether the reaction was obtained 
in ledge formation or detached boul- 
ders; and the inference from it was 
either that the mineral had been de- 
posited by some force from beneath, 
like volcanic action, or else that by 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


55 


reason of gravity or some other natural 
law it had made its way downward from 
the surface, no doubt when the rock was 
in a liquid or semi-liquid state. 

In following up this idea, he had 
been interested to find out something 
which owing to the peculiar formation 
was often difficult to determine — 
namely whether what appeared to be 
boulders were in reality such, being 
wholly detached from the parent/ 
ledge, or boulders in appearance only 
and still joined beneath to the under- 
lying rock. With this view he had 
been one day, about a week previous, 
probing between some boulders which 
had responded to the acid test, with a 
slender steel bar — when suddenly the 
bar slipped from his hands and dis- 
appeared. Much surprised, asi he had 
noticed no sign of an opening, he re- 
tained the presence of mind to listen 
intently and heard the bar strike up- 
on a rock surface somewhere below.. 
From the time of the drop, the sound 
of its striking on end then falling 
down, and the reverberation, the as- 
tonishing fact seemed almost certainly 
established that it had dropped into 
a subterranean cavern in the interior 
of Table Rock Hill, not less than fif- 
teen or twenty feet in depth and of 
considerable size! 

Carefully marking the spot he pro- 
ceeded to follow out from it lines in 
different directions, in the hope of 
finding some opening or indication 
that would afford a key to the mys- 
tery. In every direction but one the 
quest was vain and unpromising, the 
lines simply leading among the rocks 
on a barren level, or tending upward 
to higher elevations. Following a line 
about due west, however, for a dis- 
tance of some forty yards, he came to 
a sudden drop, the face of the ledge 
dropping down almost perpendicularly 
about 'fifty feet; and directly beneath 
as he looked over the edge stood a 
rough cottage, the rear wall of which 
was built plumply against the face 
of the perpendicular ledge. A com- 
paratively level space of perhaps a 
quarter acre surrounded this cottage 
on its other sides, and then there was 
another abrupt drop of about twenty 
feet, forming the side of the canyon, 
with Bitter Creek at the bottom. 


He also noticed that from his view- 
point, looking diagonally about thirty 
rods to the left, he could see the mass 
of shifting sand which had interested 
and puzzled him so much, its further 
edge just touching the water of the 
creek. 

The cottage he had seen before and 
had learned that it was occupied by 
a man of middle age and ordinary 
appearance whom he bad seen occa- 
sionally about the village, and whom 
he had first noticed fishing in the canyon 
on the day of Grace De Costa’s un- 
intentional arrival in Bitter Creek. 

Making his * way down by a con- 
siderable detour, he noted no signs 
of occupancy and could get no re- 
sponse to repeated Knocking on the 
door or loud calls. Finally he tHed 
the door and finding It unfastened 
entered the cottage. Everything was 
undisturbed and looked as if the oc- 
cupants had stjepped out expectiing 
to return at once; but there was no 
fire in the cooking stove and a slight 
covering of dust on the tables and 
furniture indicated that the cottage 
had been vacant for several days. 

The front door opened into a main 
living room, plainly but comfortably 
furnished. Opening from this to the 
left was a sleeping room with bed 
neatly made; in the rear of the living 
room was a dining room with a simple 
table laid for two, and opening from 
this, behind the sleeping room, a 
kitchen. That was all: there was no 
cellar or upper story, and the rear 
wall of the dining room and kitchen 
constituted the rear wall of the build- 
ing, which fitted so closely against 
the face of the cliff as to leave no 
opening at all from the outside be- 
tween them. 

He carefully examined this wall 
from the inside but could find no sign 
of an opening, sounded it but could 
detect^ nothing — except Chati in the 
dining room he fancied there was a 
very slight difference in the reverber- 
ation in some places when he knocked 
upon the wall; but this was so slight 
and indefinite that it might easily be 
only fancy. 

With entirely new and strange 
theories suggest^ed to his mind by 
these discoveries he ag;ain visited the 


56 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


shifting sands and made a new and 
careful examination that day and the 
two succeeding days which satisfied 
him that all his crude theories about 
it had been entirely wrong. Instead 
of being affected by different condi- 
tions of weather and atmosphere, ‘ as 
he had supposed, it was evident that 
this deposit was .forced out through 
openings in the side of the canyon by 
a running stream of water which seep- 
ed through and under the deposit and 
made its way imperceptibly into’ the 
creek; and the changes in size and 
shape of the deposit were simply due 
to variations in the quantity brought 
down by the stream. During these 
three days there was apparently no 
addition from above, and as the ac- 
tion of the water underneath grad- 
ually wore away the lower end of the 
deposit, carrying the sand out into 
Bitter Creek, it was appreciably di- 
minishing in size. 

He next addressed himself to a more 
careful examination or the sand than 
he had made before, chemical and mi- 
croscopical, which ' revealed the fact 
that it was not the product of natural 
action, but recently pulverized by 
some kind of machinery, and recently 
subjected to the action of chemicals! 

Careful inquiry disclosed that the 
man who built the cottage had been 
in Bitter Creek about eighteen months, 
and lived in it with the woman sup- 
posed to be his wife; that he was 
seldom seen about the village and had 
no known occupation; that about a 
year ago a number or cases, heavy 
but not very large, had come to him 
by freight from the East, which 
had been carted to the cottage by 
the natural road which led to it from 
the station along the continuation of 
that terrace-like formation on which 
the cottage was built and which came 
to an end a few rods beyond it; that 
no one knew anything about the con- 
tents of these cases or the identity 
of the man or woman, or where they 
came from; and that neither of them 
had been seen for at least two weeks. 

Having completed his report, with 
many details here omitted, Gardner 
summed up his conclusions in this 
amazing abstract: — 


1. That they had been anticipated 
• in the search for Karlium. 

2. That in a subterranean cavern' 
under Table Rock Hill the mineral 
was then, or had very recently been 
mined in the most scientific way — 
from beneath the deposits. 

3. That these operations included 
the use of rock-crushing machinery 
of some kind, operated by power, and 
of chemical processes. 

4. That these operations were con- 
ducted by an unknown man, so far as 
could be learned without associates, 
who had now mysteriously disappear- 
ed. 

5. That the entrance to this cavern 
was probably in or near the cottage 
which this man and his female com- 
panion had occupied. 

The interest and astonishment with 
which this report was listened to may 
be easily imagined, and its discussion 
was protracted until a late hour when, 
their plan of action decided upon, the 
party retired. 

The following morning, after an 
early breakfast, the line of march was 
taken up, under the guidance of John 
Gardner, for the mysterious cottage 
on the rocky terrace of Table Rock 
Hill. Reaching it, the door was found 
unfastened, as Gardner had found and 
left it, and everything inside undis- 
turbed and tallying with his descrip- 
tion. 

The dining room had been selected 
as the most promising base of opera- 
tions. Unlike the other rooms, which 
were finished in the natural wood, 
the walls of this apartment were cov- 
ered with paper of a rather gaudy and 
unusually complicated pattern, the 
blending of colors and figures being 
especially confusing to the eye. 

“Here, Grigson, is an opportunity 
for the exercise of your skill”, said 
Morley. 

The detective promptly produced a 
powerful magnifying glass, and 
mounting a chair proceeded to a care- 
ful examination of the rear wall at a 
height of from seven to eight feet 
above the floor. 

Very soon the glass stopped, moved 
slowly and carefully to the left about 
three feet, when it stopped again and 
began to move downward in a straight 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


6T 


line. At four feet from the floor it 
stopped once more and began to move 
to the left in gradually enlarging cir- 
cles covering every inch of space. 
Suddenly it stopped for the last time 
and the detective, who had conducted 
his operations in perfect silence, still 
without a word reached around to his 
hip pocket, produced a revolver which 
he cocked, and holding this in his 
right hand began pressing with the 
thumb of his left upon a dark figure 
in the paper. 

For an instant there was no result; 
then suddenly a door swung inward, 
opeing three or four inches, and seiz- 
ing it by the edge Grigson threw it 
wide open. 

The first stage of the search had 
.iustified Gardner’s theory, for before 
them was an open passage leading 
straight into the heart of the hill. 

This passage, at the opening only 
about the size of the door and giving 
evidence of having been artificially 
enlarged, a few feet beyond swelled 
to considerably larger though very 
irregular propprtions, and evidently 
the undisturbed handiwork of natural 
forces. It appeared to be about sixty 
feet in length, and to open at the fur- 
ther end into a larger space, which 
was artificially lightied. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Intensely interested and not a little 
excited by this strange discovery, the 
party prepared to explore the subter- 
ranean regions which, silent and mys- 
terious, awaited them. Professor Karl 
insisted upon heading the procession. 
The detective, a trusty revolver in 
each hand, followed him closely, 
Gardner, the only other member of 
the company who had a weapon with 
him, took third place, and the others 
followed at a little distance. 

The passage was of very irregular 
shape and size, with walls of broken 
rock, but a fairly level floor and of 
sufficient dimensions at the narrowest 
part to admit three men marching 
abreast. 

The Herr Professor had no more 
than glanced into the larger opening 
at the end of the passage than he 


turned suddenly, and, raising his 
hands in strong excitement, fairly 
drove his companions backward. 

“Go back! Go back!!” he said. 
“You must go back!” 

When they had returned to the din- 
ing room. Professor Karl rushed to 
a portmanteau he had brought with 
him and opened it, ejaculating mean- 
while, 

“You must vait yet a little. I must 
go first alone.” 

From the portmanteau he produced 
a garment which he quickly put on. 
It was a flowing robe made of some 
material resembling silk, with very 
fine metallic threads woven into the 
fabric. When adjusted, it covered him 
completely from head to foot, and 
without an opening or visible seam. 
The sleeves terminated in gloves of 
the same material, and the hood 
which covered the head had eye- 
pieces adjusted in it, of thick glass, 
tinted green. 

“You must vait here until I re- 
turn,” he said. “Dere iss no danger. 
I vill come back soon und den you 
can go in.” 

After about ten minutes — which 
seemed very long ones to those who 
waited, — the Herr Professor returned. 
He had removed and evidently left 
in the cavern his strange robe, and 
his face wore a very grave expression. 
Taking the portmanteau in his hand, 
he simply said “Now come,” and led 
the silent procession through the pas- 
sage and into the interior of Table 
Rock Hill. ; 

At about sixty feet from the en- 
trance, the passage opened abruptly 
into a large vaulted cavern, of irre- 
gular shape, the average dimensions 
of which were about one hundred feet 
in length, fifty feet in width, and 
twenty to forty feet in height. The 
floor was nearly level, of rock with 
some sand and occasional small 
stones. The ceiling was vaulted in 
general contour, and higher at the 
further end. The walls, as well as 
the ceiling, were very irregular, being 
composed of great broken masses of 
rock protruding in all shapes and 
sizes, and the whole cavern had evi- 
dently been produced by some tre- 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


5^ 


mendous convulsion of nature. Its 
atmosphere was dry and pure. 

The further half was lighted by 
several incandescent electric lamps 
attached to the rocky walls and hang- 
ing from overhead: and from the fur- 
ther end came a soft, whirring sound, 
in which could be distinguished the 
flow of water and the peculiar tone 
of electrical machinery in smooth but 
very rapid motion. 

At about the center of the cavern, 
near the right side, was a couch or 
divan, with colored blankets and 
cushions. Four or five rough chairs 
were placed near this and between it 
and the only other article of furniture, 
which was a plain home-made table, 
standing almost exactly in the center 
of the room. 

Above this table depended an elec- 
tric lamp, more brilliant than the 
others. Its light fell full upon the 
only article on the table, which was a 
casket about six inches long by three 
in width and depth, made of heavy 
glass sides and tightly adjusted top 
of the same material; and lining the 
bottom were metallic electrodes, to 
which at either end were connected in- 
sulated wires leading up and, pendant 
from the ceiling, away to the machin- 
ery at the further end of the cavern. 

The bottom of this casket was cov- 
ered to the depth of about an inch, 
with a granular substance, looking 
like coarse salt but of dazzling white- 
ness. 

But the light fell also upon two 
other objects, which first caught and 
riveted the attention of the invaders. 

Seated in chairs by the table, with 
elbows resting on it and with eyes 
and expression fixed with intense in- 
terest upon the casket, were the 
motionless figures of a man and a 
woman. 

The Herr Professor advanced, and 
placing his hand upon the man’s 
shoulder reverently and pityingly, 
said: 

"Der poor peobles! Dey did not 
know. Dey are like der hard, hard 
rocks, alretty.” 

It was literally true. Bereft of life 
by some force so inconceivably swift 
in its fatal action that the expres- 
sion of their faces had no time to 


change even in the least degree, this 
man and woman were now transform- 
ed, presumably by the same myster- 
ious power, into statues of solid stone, 
as hard as the walls of the cavern. 

Too profoundly impressed for 
speech, the little parly turned upon 
Professor Karl inquiring looks which 
he could not fail to interpret as an 
appeal for some explanation of this 
terrible mystery. Touching the cas- 
ket with his hand he said: 

“Dis, mein friends, iss chloride of 
Karlium. In dis liddle gasket iss, I 
should say, four million marks, or al- 
most one million of your dollars. It 
iss now inert and harmless. What it 
vill do in contact with der life tissue, 
you know from dot case of der poor 
Herr De Costa. But oxcited by a pow- 
erful electric gurrent, it becomes a 
fearful engine of destruction. Ven I 
come in here, der gurrent vas turned 
on, und it mean instant death to all 
living objects, not brotected, daft 
come in der radius. Dot poor man 
did not know. He turn on der gur- 
rent und dey look. Ven it reach der 
potential, der emanations bombard 
all near objects mit velocity incon- 
ceivable. It strike dem deal so quick 
as lightning flash. Den der bombard- 
ment of der atoms go on, hour after 
hour, until every cell is filled und 
solidified, und dey are like der rocks 
of der hill. Indeed perhaps dose rocks 
are^made in der same vay, ven der 
awful convulsion of nature oxcite dose 
elemental substances in der ages past. 
Who can tell? I see dese bodies ven 
I first look in — und den I know; und 
I brotect meinself mit der robe, und 
turn off der gurrent.” 

During the Herr Professor’s expla- 
nation, Grigsion, whose accomplish- 
ments included division as well as 
concentration of attention, had been 
keenly Inspecting the features of the 
statue that was so recently a man, 
and as Professor Karl finished he 
spoke, even his imperturbable calm 
showing a faint ripple of excitement 
on its surface. 

“I know this man,” said Grigson, 
“and I think we are close upon the 
key to the mysterious murder of Mr. 
De Costa. His name is, or was, Rich- 
ard Murgatroyd, one of the most able. 


The Secret of Table Roch 


59 


adroit, and utterly conscienceless na- 
tural criminals I ever knew — his only 
redeeming trait being his constancy 
to this good wife who has remained 
faithful to him through everything. 
He was an Englishman, and came to 
this country about thirty-three years 
ago. He had a fair commercial ana 
some scientific education, with quick 
perceptions and more than ordinary 
natural ability and shrewdness. Soon 
after his arrival he obtained an office 
position with the house of Henry Von 
Post, whose daughter married Mr. 
De Costa, and who was then engaged 
in a banking business with the financ- 
ing of mining propositions as a spec- 
ialty. In a short time he rose to the 
position of Mr. Von Post’s private sec- 
retary and confidential man. A few 
years later I was employed in a pri- 
vate inquiry. Some papers had been 
forged in connection with a large tran- 
saction between the houses of Von 
Post and De Costa. I was young and 
enthusiastic in my profession then 
and worked hard and carefully in the 
case. F. De Costa & Co. were de- 
frauded out of some fifty thousand 
dollars by the forgery and all the cir- 
cumstantial evidence in the case 
pointed to Mr. Von Post as the per- 
petrator, or instigator of the crime. 
I became satisfied however, that Mr. 
Von Post did not receive the money, 
knew nothing of the forgery, and that 
this man Murgatroyd had conceived 
and executed the whole scheme, man- 
aging with most subtle and devilish 
ingenuity so that all the threads seem- 
ed to lead to the employer who had 
trusted and befriended him. I had 
not yet succeeded in tracing the 
money, (which had mysteriously dis- 
appeared) nor had I gone far enough 
to make out a case on my theory 
that would stand in court, when I laid 
my report of progress, conclusions, and 
reasons in support of tliem before 
Mr. De Costa who was my employer 
in the case. He expressed himself 
as entirely satisfied of the correct- 
ness of my theory, but instructed me 
to take no further action until I 
heard from him. Three days later he 
sent for me and to my great surprise 
told me the matter had been private- 
ly arranged and the inquiry was to 


be dropped. A few days after that I 
saw a notice of his marriage to Mr. 
Von Post’s daughter. Evidently no 
suspicion of the truth came to Mr. 
Von Post’s mind, for his confidence in 
Murgatroyd continued undisturbed 
and Murgatroyd’s influence over his 
employer seemed to increase. Shortly, 
the fortunes of the house of Von Post 
began to decline, losses and reverses 
following each other at intervals. 1 
have no doubt the fortunes of Murga- 
troyd correspondingly increased, but 
he was far too cunning to let any evi- 
dences of this appear. For many years 
the business was kept going but fin- 
ally Mr. Von Post decided to wind it 
up, and did so, having as I understood, 
quite a considerable remnant left of 
his once large fortune. There had 
been some domestic troubles it was 
said — at all events Mrs. Von Post 
went abroad, and about three years 
ago her husband, still accompanied by 
Murgatroyd, went W(est — to the Paci- 
fic coast somewhere, report had it. I 
have heard nothing of either of them 
since.” 

While yet speaking, Grigson’s keen 
exploring glance had taken note of 
an object of interest lying on the 
couch, and he proceeded to examine it. 
It was a long folding bill-case of 
leather, such as may be carried in the 
breast pocket of a man’s coat, and 
contained some bank notes and sev- 
eral folded papers. One of these was 
written closely in German, and was 
at once recognized by Professor Karl, 
being in his own handwriting. It 
v/as, as he explained, a detailed des- 
cription of the nature and character- 
istics of Karlium, and gave the writer’s 
theories and conclusions as to where 
and how the mineral was to be found; 
concluding with the deduction from 
scientific data that a deposit should 
exist on the American Continent at 
or near the center of a square formed 
by Longitude West from Washington 
31 and 32 degrees, and Latitude 41 and 
42 degrees, south of or below the ter- 
mination of the continental divide, 
and west of the 12th guide meridian. 

The document contained instructions 
for the chemical recovery of the salts 
up to the precipitation of the chloride, 
and concluded with the statement that 


60 


The Secret of Table Rock 


further refinement, being accomplish- 
ed by the aid of high electric poten- 
tials, should not be attempted except 
under the most expert scientific guid- 
ance. 

This paper, the Herr Professor said, 
had been prepared for and delivered 
to his old friend De Costa, 

In the same compartment of the 
bill-case was a letter in Mr. De Costa’s 
handw»'iting. A corner of the paper, 
on which evidently the date had been 
written, was torn off. The letter reaa 
as follows: 

“My dear Von (the word 

following had been erased): 

“In pursuance of our conversation 
a few days since when I met you in 
Hot Springs, I enclose with this the 
document in relation to the new min- 
eral, and also a list of the lands I 
have acquired. Your knowledge of 
mining and mineralogy will guide you 
in this matter better than any sug- 
gestions I could make, and I will only 
say ‘Go ahead according to your own 
judgment and I shall be satisfied.’ 

“If you want funds at any time, let 
me know, or draw on me. and when 
yoii have anything to report, let me 
hear from you. 

“Unless Karl is mistaken (and he is 
not in the habit of making mistakes 
in such matters) there is a fine pros- 
pect in this, and I am sure that you 
will do the best that can be done to 
develop it, 

“I also enclose copy of our agree- 
ment in this business, which I trust 
you will find correct. 

“Sincerely yours,’’ 

The signature was torn off and the 
list and copy referred to were missing. 

“There now,’’ said Grigson, admir- 
ingly, “just look at that! I tell you, 
gentlemen, when you see how the 
best — or the worst — of them sooner or 
later leave the key to their crimes 
somewhere, you can’t doubt that there 
is an overruling Providence.” 

“Perhaps this is not as plain to us 
as it is to you, Grigson,” said Morley. 
“.lust what does this key unlock, to 
your mind?” 

“Why it’s as clear as a quill, sir,” 
replied the detective. “Mr. De Costa 


and Professor Karl here were old 
friends — were you not?” 

“Glassmates in der University,” as- 
sented the Herr Professor. 

“Exactly. W'dl. he was over in 
Berlin and you explained your discov- 
ery to him and made arrangements 
that he was to look the matter up 
and find the deposits you had figured 
out \^ere to be found in this country, 
and you were to go shares on the re- 
sults.” 

Professor Karl nodded gravely. 
“Quite gorrect,” said he. 

“Well, Mr. De Costa comes back 
and makes up his mind that his 
father-in-law is the man for the busi- 
ness, knowing him to have experience 
and skill in such matters. Perhaps he 
thought there was something due him 
on old scores — but that is a side is- 
sue. Anyhow he wires him and they 
meet at Hot Springs and arrange the 
deal. Mr. De Costa takes the German 
paper back with him to New York, 
probably to have it copied, and sends 
it on later, with this letter and the 
other papers that are missing. Of 
course Murgatroyd gets hold o^ the 
whole thing, being still deep in Mr. , 
Von Post’s confidence. He sees the 
great chance of his life — gets rid of 
Von Post, forever I’m afraid — comes 
here — finds this hole — puts up the cot- 
tage — gets the machinery — and here 
he is, snug as a mole and with no- 
thing to do but keep dark and grind 
out as much money as even his greed 
can desire. Everything is working 
fine and the precious stuff is gradually 
piling up into a little heap that he can 
take in a handbag, when he gets 
enough to suit him, skip across the 
water and exchange for millions, ac- 
cording to Professor Karl’s figures. 
Then one fine day he looks up from 
where he is catching some fish for 
breakfast the next morning — and there 
is Miss De Costa looking down at him. 
Well it gets on his nerves right away. 

A man who knows his game is crooked 
has a mighty sensitive bundle of 
nerves inside, though he may keep 
them pretty well covered until some- 
thing sudden happens. If he had the 
murder of his friend and benefactor 
on his soul also, as I am afraid he had, 
that made it worse for him. The 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


61 


more he thought it over the more it 
scared him and the more he was con- 
vinced that the trouble a crook al- 
ways fears will catch him in the end 
was on his trail. Then the next 
thing he knows here is Mr. Gardner 
searching and experimenting around 
on what he of course knows at once 
is a search for Karlium. What can 
he think except that he and Miss 
Grace are both here in the interests 
of her father whose rights he is burg- 
larizing, as it were? Any moment 
his secret may be discovered and then 
it’s all up with the great scheme of 
his life, and state’s prison and prob- 
ably the gallows staring him in the 
face. I’ll warrant even he was rattled 
at first, and unless I am mistaken both 
Miss De Costa and Mr. Gardner skated 
closer to the danger sign here last fall 
than they had any idea of. But you 
can bet, gentlemen, that when he got 
so he could sit down for a cool think 
it didn’t take that sharp brain of his 
long to strike the key to the situation. 
Gardner and Miss De Costa must be 
gotten away from here and kept away 
until he had time to finish his job 
and get over the pond with the big 
pile he had set his greedy heart on. 
And they must be gotten away with- 
out any fuss or excitement or suspi- 
cion being stirred up here. There 
was just one way to do it, and that 
was to strike at the fountain head. 
With Mr. De Costa murdered they 
would be called off from here fast 
enough, and no probability that they 
or anybody else would trouble him 
again before spring at least. He prob- 
ably disguises himself — gets to New 
York — adds one more crime to his 
list— takes the next train out, leaving 
no trace that can be followed— gets 
back here and vanishes into this 
hole again, the danger removed, as 
he thinks. He works away all win- 
ter until finally he gets enough of 
that white salt there, so he thinks he 
must have a try at reducing it to the 
purest and most valuable form. His 
kind ‘know it all,’ generally — that is 
the reason we catch them — so he pays 
no attention to the professor’s cau- 
tion in this paper. He knows how to 
work the electricity all right, and he 
gets his poor wife in here to see hirn 


do it. And then, just as he thinks the 
moment of his triumph has come, the 
hand of the Lord closes down on him 
— and here he is.” 

The detective’s theory appeared to 
his auditors so logical and satisfactory 
as to call for no question or comment, 
and he quietly handed over to Mr. 
Stewart the third and only other docu- 
ment with which this narrative is 
concerned. This was in a separate 
compartment of the bill-case and was 
also in Mr. De Costa’s handwriting. 

It was a letter, beginning wdthout 
address, and was enclosed in an enj 
velope, unsealed and upon which was 
written only the preliminary word 
“For,” as if the writer had been in- 
terrupted before completing the di- 
rection. 

“When you reach this house — once 
your unhappy home — you will not 
find me, as perhaps you expected with 
dread, and it is for you to decide 
whether we shall meet again. 

“I loved you, I think from the first 
moment, with a love the depth and 
strength of which I am sure you 
never realized or understood. It was 
the old story. I found I could not 
win you in the right way and I took 
the wrong. I used my power over 
your father growing out of certain 
business conditions, and you were 
practically forced into a marriage with 
me. As God is my judge I had but the 
one thought and purpose — an old 
story too, and full of tragedy — that I 
coufd and should win the love my soul 
so coveted. 

“I learned my mistake and the 
learning so embittered my life, so 
hardened and changed my proud and 
wilful nature, that the results you 
know but too well followed. When 
the listless apathy into which you had 
drifted was first disturbed by a dis- 
covery you accidentally made, I real- 
ized that this disturbance had no 
tinge of jealousy in it. Your pride 
was touched, but not your love, and, 
my pride rising to meet yours, I reso- 
lutely sealed my lips and left you to 
think as you would. So you did not 
learn that Adele Grant is my own 
half-sister, estranged from the family 
since before I knew you by an ill-ad- 
vised and most unfortunate marriage. 


62 


The Secret of Table Rock 


and that what you construed so dif- 
ferently was but my response to her 
appeal when by the death of this 
worthless husband, she was left pen- 
niless in a foreig-n land. But now, 
v/hatever your decision may be, I 
wish you to know the truth; and 
that it might be shown you beyond 
any question I cabled Adele to come 
to New York. She arrived from Lon- 
don this tmorning and has apartments 
at the Waldorf. As I write this I 
am expecting her here at any moment. 

“It may be that hope is dead and 
these words but^a requiem. But time 
and sorrow have softened me at least; 
and perhaps you, too, have felt their 
chastening touch. At all eVents, of 
late I have had new thoughts and 
dreamed new dreams. Grace is our 
child. My love is wholly yours, as it 
has been all these years. Can you 
find it in your heart at last to lay 
your hand in mine, dear love? 

“If you can, . telegraph to the address 
below just one word — ‘Come.’ 

Ferdinand.” 

True to his professional instincts, 
Grigson broke the momentary silence 
that followed the reading of this mes- 
sage from the dead, so strangely and 
terribly prevented from reaching the 
one for whom it was intended, with 
this conclusion: 

“The murderer snatched that letter 
from Mr. De Costa’s library table as 
he fled from the scene of his crime.” 


At the further end of the cavern a 
stream of water, evidently flowing in 
an underground, or under-rock chan- 
nel from some great spring near the 
top of the hill, entered at the ceiling 
in one corner, rushed swiftly but 
quietly down an inclined trough-like 
bed, worn in the end wall, and vanish- 
ed at the floor of the opposite corner 
into an opening which continued its 
hidden course toward Bitter Creek. 

As the fall of this stream from en- 
trance to exit, must have been between 
forty and fifty feet, the water was 
capable of developing a quite consid- 
erable power, and of this full advan- 
tage had been taken. By means of a 
compact but powerful turbine wheel, 
the fall had been harnessed and con- 
nected to drive an electric generator, 


and this in turn to run a crusher of 
the most approved pattern. Through 
this it was evident that many tons 
of rock from the roof and sides of the 
cavern had been run, the finely crush- 
ed product treated with chemicals in 
vats, and the residuum, or “tailings” 
run off into the stream, which had 
brought them out to the surface near 
its junction with Bitter Creek, form- 
ing the shifting sands. 

There was also a small dynamo sup- 
plying the electric lamps with cur- 
rent, and another machine of more 
unfamiliar type. Gardner and Pro- 
fessor Karl examined this with much 
curiosity and interest. It was con- 
nected with the generator, and from 
it extended the wires which termin- 
ated at the electrodes of the casket. 
Suddenly the Herr Professor rushed 
to the rheostat connected with this 
machine and taking one look at it 
ejaculated, 

“Ach yes! It iss der Tesla oscilla- 
ting gurrent!” 

He turned, his eyes brilliant with 
excitement, and drew Doctor Raymond 
a little aside. 

“Herr Doctor,” said he, “you know 
what I tell you I belief ve gan do for 
der poor fraulein if ve haf der labor- 
atory alreatty? Yes. Veil — der lab- 
oratory iss here! Efery thing ve need 
iss here! You shall bring der fraulein 
and ve shall, see!” 

Doctor Raymond seemed to catch, in 
large degree, the German chemist’s 
excitement, and summoning the other 
members of the party, a short con- 
sultation was held, with prompt and 
decisive results. 

The two stone statues were care- 
fully and reverently removed to an 
alcove which opened from one side 
of the cavern and was so nearly 
screened by the rocks and its own 
shape as to conceal them entirely 
from view. Then, leaving everything 
else undisturbed, the party returned 
to “The Great Western Hotel” where 
two telegrams were prepared, which 
Gardner took to the station and des- 
patched. The first read: 

“E. C. Harrison, Division Superin- 
tendent: 

Kindly arrange at once for special 
engine to bring car ‘Muriel’ to Bitter 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


63 


Creek. Receive orders from William' 
Pettis. Arrange for high speed and 
right of way. 

James Morley, 

Chairman of the Board.” 

The second: 

“William Pettis, Ogden: 

Bring Grace, with yotir wife, Mrs. 
De Costa, and Phoebe here without 
delay. Present this to conductor pri- 
vate car ‘Muriel,’ which with special 
engine awaits your orders. This by 
direction of Doctor Raymond, who is 
here. 

John Gardner.” 

As he entered the station to send 
these messages, the agent met him 
and said: “Mr. Gardner, I forgot to 
tell you that a few days ago I re- 
ceived an answer to the tracer you 
had me send to find who shipped a 
small express package here last fall 
to Miss Grace De Costa. The tracer 
got mislaid somewhere and has been 
all this time getting around. The 
package was sent by F. De Costa, 
New York city, express prepaid.” 

Gardner of course had heard from 
Grace the sad story of her father and 
mother, so far as she knew it. As the 
agent spoke, into the disc of his men- 
tal vision flashed a little white card. 
It had fallen from the box unnoticed 
when the miniature was removed, 
and Phoebe had found it on the rug. 
Printed on it with a pen, in small 
neat letters, were these words: 

“From one who loves her.” 

And even as Gardner looked at it, 
the card seemed to grow somewhat 
larger. Presently it lifted itself, and 
floating upward took a place upon 
the wall in the picture gallery of 
Gardner’s memory. And around it 
grew a frame of fadeless, fragrant 
violets. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

When he had seen the me.ssages ac- 
tually sent Gardner calculated that in 
the ordinary course of things the spec- 
ial could not be expected to leave Og- 
den under two hours; and he realized 
that it would be much better for him 
to be occupied both in mind and body 
during that period of suspense. He 
therefore made his way back tP the 


cavern and devoted himself to a care- 
ful and thorough examination of the 
many things there which were of the 
greatest interest and importance to 
him and his work. 

He timed his stay, however, so gus 
to get back to the station in almost 
exactly two hours. As soon as he 
reached it, the operator handed him 
two telegrams: — 

“No. 47 special. Conductor Donovan, 
Engineer Lynch, left Ogden 12:03.” 

The start had been made, then, 
nearly an hour sooner than he had 
supposed possible. It seemed a good 
omen, and his heart leaped at the 
thought. Eagerly he turned to the 
second telegram: — 

“No. 47 special passed Echo 12:39.” 

Forty miles in thirty-six minutes! 
The special was flying eastward like 
a cannonball with its precious freight! 
'Phe intimation in Morley’s order that 
high speed was desired, had evidently 
impressed the operating department. 
Gardner walked rapidly over to the 
hotel and made report, returning to 
the station at once to watch for the 
next telegram which should be receiv- 
ed now in a few moments. 

“No. 47 special passed Evanston 
1:15.” 

Thirty-six miles and exactly at the 
rate of a mile a minute. There was 
a longer stretch now from Evanston 
to Granger, and when he had once 
more reported to the hotel Gardner 
mechanically fell to pacing back and 
forth along the carriage road from 
the station, to and across the bridge 
over the canyon. 

In all the strength of his vigorous 
young manhood, John Gardner was 
under tremendous stress of mind and 
body. The marvellous discoveries and 
events of the last few days, of such 
thrilling interest to him in a profes- 
sional and scientific way, and of such 
grave importance to his personal for- 
tunes (for he had taken a very con- 
siderable interest in the new com- 
pany) would in themselves have been 
sufficient to produce a good deal of 
nerve exhaustion, even in a strong 
man. 

But all this seemed as nothing com- 
pared with the strain of sorrow and 
anxiety steadily pulling upon him for 


64 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


weeks past, and now intensified, even 
as it was lightened, by a hope so new 
and strange and Incomprehensible 
that it fairly staggered thought. Grace 
De Costa had become the life of his 
life — heart of his heart. She was dy- 
ing toward him at this moment, al- 
most as on the wings of the wind. 
Toward him — and toward what else? 
Joy too great for belief? or final and 
hopeless despair? 

To the Infinite economy, waste, and 
loss are unknown. Prom the cradle 
to grave, and presumably through all 
the eternity in which these are but 
mile-stones, every word spoken or 
unuttiered, every thought kind or 
cruel, good or bad, every impression 
received or evolved by any of the 
senses, is garnered in the Storehouse 
of Somewhere. And any one of these 
at any time, be it lightly summoned, 
sought for with toil and pain or all 
unbidden and perhaps vainly repuls- 
ed with horror, dismay, and tears, is 
able to come back again to our con- 
sciousness. If we realized this, — as 
alas! we do not, — with what care 
would we make selection of the goods 
we consign to that Storehouse of 
Somewhere! 

To John Gardner’s tired brain, as 
he walked to and fro in his anxious 
vigil, the thing that came back all 
unbidden and unwelcome was the 
refrain of an uncanny song or chant 
which he had heard at a vaudeville 
in New York shortly before bis first 
trip to Bitter Creek. Heard and sup- 
posedly forgotten the next day, for so 
far as he could see there was nothing 
to commend it to his memory. Neither 
words or music had any merit, and 
at the time he had but idly amused 
his transient thought in accounting 
for its brief vogue. 

The singer was proclaimed to be a 
genuine Ethiopian. At all events he 
was a magnificent bronze statue of 
the athlete or gladiator type; and as 
Gardner had concluded, because of 
this perfect and majestic physique, 
because his voice was like the diapa- 
son stop of a great organ, with a sub- 
tle sob in it that might suggest the 
tragedy of unnumbered generations of 
dumb, undeveloped souls from which 
he had descended, it had pleased the 


butterflies of the great fickle city to 
come and feast their eyes upon his 
grand bronze proportions, gaze in his 
great solemn eyes, and luxuriate in 
the creeping chills which that sob in 
the organ-like voice sent along their 
dainty spines. 

There came back to Gardner at this 
time only the chorus or refrain — a 
monotonous barbaric chant, simply 
the reiteration of middle c, dropping 
to b, on the last two words: — 

“Oh Lily, my love, my darling. 

Oh Lily, my love, my dear, 

I’d give my soul, my darling. 

If Lily, my love, were here.” 

He resented its intrusion into his 
thoughts which he wanted to con- 
centrate upon the grave matters of 
his anxiety. He did not recall at the 
same time that tale of soldiers on the 
eve of battle, when, 

“Each heart supplied a different name 
But all sang Annie Laurie.” 

So, not recognizing that auto-sug- 
gestion which no doubt brought the 
refrain back to him. he fought it vain- 
ly, as all of us have fought such 
haunts, even * to anathematizing 
everything and everybody connected 
with the barbaric thing. And still as 
he paced to and fro, it droned its 
insistent monotony through his tired 
brain, routing connected thought and 
offending his throbbing temples. 

“Oh, Lily, my love, my darling, 

Oh Lily, my love, my dear, 

I’d give my soul, my darling. 

If Lily, my love, were here.” 

Back and forth, back and forth, un- 
til the weary anxious moments, haunt- 
ed by that fiendish refrain, grew to 
seem like hours. Relief at last! The 
operator waves a yellow slip from his 
window and Gardner rushes to read: 

“No. 47 special passed Granger 2:29.” 
Eighty miles in seventy-five min- 
utes! Oh! brave and grand Tim 
Lynch, in your coal-grimed frock and 
overalls, with your strong hand on 
the lever, your face set in grim lines 
and your steady eyes to the front! 
Never was grander race than your 
steed of fire and steel is running this 
day! A race that is to win — grant it 
dear God — life, and hope and love! 
“Oh, Lily, my love, my darling. 

Oh Lily, my love, my dear — ” 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


65 


Are you back again, barbaric horror, 
with your tuneless monotony? Draw- 
ing the violin bow back and forth 
across one sobbing string may be all 
very well for a passing joke, but when 
it is drawn across a man’s heart 
strings, don’t you know it hurts? Don’t 
you know he wants to think, and hope 
and pray? — 

I’d give my soul, my darling. 

If Lily, my love, were here.” 

Oh pitiless thing, why cannot that 
dirge-like monotony be broken? Why 
not, at least sometimes, go up on those 
last two words instead of always 
down? Upward are hope and sun- 
• shine. Downward lie the realms of 
despair — and something else that be- 
gins with “d” — something unthink- 
able! 

Gardner flung himself aside from the 
beat he had been walking and turned 
to the operator’s window. He had 
taken telegraphy in his technical 
course and he would listen for the 
first click of the next report. — - _ - 
— - -- — - --. Yes, that is the 

call for Bitter Creek. The operator 
gives his answering signal and Gard- 
ner listens, breathlessly. — - - - - 

No. 47 


- — - - - “Oh Lily, my love, my 

darling” That pagan chant has torn 

the letters from his mind and with 
a gesture of despair Gardner turns 
aside and waits until the written mes- 
sage is handed out to him. 

“No. 47 special passed Green River 
2:56.” 

Thirty miles — twenty-seven min- 
utes! The last reporting station was 
left behind and the flying special 
would soon be here. Gardner walked 
to the hotel and made report, remained 
there as long as his impatience and 
anxiety would permit, and then re- 
sumed his march between the station 
and the bridge. To and fro, back 
and forth, but never escaping the 
monotonous persistent chant that 
surged to and fro, back and forth 
through his weary and protesting 
consciousness. “I’d give my soul, my 
darling” — oh miserable thing of the 
wilds and the deserts, why persecute 
a civilized Christian with your un- 


hallowed bribes, no doubt addressed 
to heathen Gods? And yet — and yet 
— what price so great, to powers of 
good or powers of evil, could the 
hand of this civilized Christian with- 
hold if indeed, restored to all her sweet 
perfection of mind and body “Lily 
my love were here”? 

Hark! Far down the valley the 
long, melodious note of No. 47’s whistle 
shaking and quavering from the tre- 
mendous speed of the great steel 
monster’s headlong rush! A moment 
of silence and again it comes, higher, 
stronger, nearer. And now his eager 
sense catches a smothered roar, as the 
flying mass hurls its thunder against 
some rocky ledge that echoes back 
the sound. Nearer, nearer still. He 
can catch the “click, click” that marks 
the time of the flying wheels upon the 
rail joints, and instantly it falls in- 
to the rhythm of the pagan chant — 
“Oh Lily, my love, my darling.” 

With a flash of light on polished 
brass, a swirl and a roar that makes 
the heart jump and the breath catch, 
the great engine rounds the curve 
like some Titanic missile, and a sec- 
ond later, panting like a sentient liv- 
ing thing after its terrible race, stops 
at the platform; and Lily, my love, is 
here. 

For many a day, Tim Lynch of 
strong, coal-blackened face and steady 
eyes, shall the tale be told in office 
and station, train-shed, round-house, 
and caboose, of how you and your 
great pet, engine No. 47, broke all 
records, whirling the chairman’s spec- 
ial across Wyoming, 246 miles in 240 
minutes! 


Grace De Costa was the first to 
alight from the “Muriel.” John Gard- 
ner stood to receive and assist her 
with arms outstretched and all the 
silent eloquence of love in his face. 

She placed her hands in his and 
accepted their support with a gentle 
smile; but there was no trace of re- 
cognition in the deep violet eyes, and 
her serene gaze passing over and 
through him as if he did not exist, 
rested wistfully upon the distant sum- 
mits of the Sweetwater mountains. As 
she stepped upon the platform a pa- 
tient little smile flitted across her face 


66 


The Secret of Table Rock, 


and she said in a low, soft, wistful 
cadence of her sweet voice; 

“They are so far, so far away.” 

The men from “The Great Western 
Hotel” had reached the station just 
before the special arrived, and with 
but a few words of partial explanation 
the whole party at once set forth along 
the cliff road to the deserted cottage. 
During the walk a general account 
of the events and discoveries at Table 
Rock was given to the new-comers, 
and they reached the wonderful cav- 
ern and looked upon its central object 
— the casket of still more wonderful 
and mysterious contents, — with minds 
too profoundly impressed for much 
speech. 

Grace De Costa had not spoken at 
all, and when they entered the cavern, 
watchful and loving Phoebe, noticing 
certain signs which she had learned 
to understand, led her at once to the 
couch and had no sooner made her 
comfortable there than the violet eyes 
closed and she was lost in one of those 
long periods of sleep which came to 
her at intervals. 

The question of procedure had been 
fully discussed and settled upon be- 
fore telegraphing to Ogden in the 
morning, and among other things it 
had been considered whether an at- 
tempt should be made to spare Mrs. 
De Costa by withholding the letter 
from her husband until she had pass- 
ed through the other stress and anx- 
iety that must come to her. 

But the decision had followed Mor- 
ley’s view, who said he believed such 
momentous occasions come to our 
lives under the direction of some 
higher power, and the best way is to 
accept its apparent purposes and 
meet things fairly and squarely as 
they are presented, believing that the 
same power will supply strength ac- 
cording to our needs. 

Accordingly the letter was handed 
to her and the whole party stood in 
reverent silence while she read it. She 
turned aside for a moment after she 
had finished reading, and then bravely 
facing to the front again, stood wait- 
ing with the others for what ?vas to 
follow. 

Doctor Raymond had been delegated 


to explain the sudden summons from 
Ogden and its purpose. He said: 

“My friends, it is really Professor 
Karl who should speak to you, but as 
he is, — I think unnecessarily, — dis- 
trustful of his English, he has asked 
me to explain his theory and belief 
which are responsible for your pres- 
ence here. I can only do so in the 
briefest manner, and I fear very im- 
imperfectly, for it is not easy to ex- 
press extraordinary things in ordinary 
language: but I must do as well as 
I can. 

“The Herr Professor believes that 
the minds and the material bodies of 
human beings constitute simply as 
one might say the dwelling place, with 
its furnishings, in which we pass this 
mortal stage of our journey, the be- 
ginning and the end of which are en- 
tirely beyond the scope of our appre- 
hension. That the mind and body to- 
gether make up a marvellous and in- 
tricate piece of mechanism designed 
for the purposes of our mortal stage of 
existence. But all this mechanism is, 
in itself, just as inert and devoid of 
independent motive force as yonder 
machines of brass and steel. The vital 
power which starts and maintains 
them in action, and as we commonly 
use the expressions in life and intelli- 
gence — is an entirely distinct entity; 
and, being spiritual and not material, 
it cannot be perceived or understood 
by the finite senses. 

“He believes that in the case of our 
dear Grace, the connection, or the har-* 
monious relation, between the life- 
force which is spiritual and the mater- 
ial mechanism through which it is ex- 
pressed and conveyed to our senses, 
has in some way been broken or dis- 
turbed. We have no perceptions or 
instrumentalities which can detect or 
locate this interruption of the har- 
mony; and, if we had, probably no 
means of repairing it. 

“But the Herr Professor believes 
that if any means of such repair ex- 
ists and is available to us, it is likely 
to be the bringing of the subject under 
the direct influence of one of the ele- 
mental vital forces of the universe in 
as nearly a pure state as it can be and 
still remain perceptible to our senses. 


The Secret of Table Rock. 


67 


Such a force is Karlium, since in its 
nearest feasible approach to the pure 
state it is an independent vital force. 

“It is true that no man knows this 
thing to be correct, for it has never 
been demonstrated. All we can say 
is that Professor Karl believes it to be 
a reasonable probability 'that if Grace 
were subjected to what we may de- 
scribe as a stream of the vitalized 
emanations from (almost) pure Kar- 
lium, the lost harmony might be re- 
stored through a finer application of 
that same principle which causes the 
harmonious rearrangement of material 
particles by the application of a per- 
fectly uniform stream of influence 
such as water, air, sound, or electric- 
ity. 

‘‘For myself, I can only say that I 
have most profound respect for the 
Herr Professor’s learning, ability, and 
opinions. He informs me that he finds 
here everything necessary to the ex- 
periment, and positively assures me 
that whether it may prove successful 
or not, it involves no possible danger 
of injury to Grace. This being the 
case, and as I certainly know of noth- 
ing else that offers the slightest hope 
of benefit, I have no personal hesita- 
tion in favoring the experiment. We 
thought best to summon you here with- 
oiit delay and submit the matter to 
you. And now, with you, my friends, 
who include all that are nearest to 
her in the world, the decision rests.” 

The response of all those addressed, 
who had listened in almost breathless 
silence, was instant and unanimous. 
The experiment should be tried, and at 
once. 

“Professor Karl wishes me to say to 
you,” continued Doctor ’ Raymond, 
“that the experiment, or rather the 
preparation for it, will involve some 
rather startling phenomena, for which 
you should be prepared, understanding 
that the peculiar electrical force used 
differs entirely from the forms of cur- 
rent that are familiar to us, and ac- 
cepting his assurance that there will 
notbethe least danger of injury to any- 
one. I accept this assurance fully for 
myself, and trust you will all do so.” 
The speaker paused an instant and 
then, as if moved by some reverent im- 


pulse such as the circumstances and 
occasion might well evoke, he added 
the quotation: 

“Be strong and of a good courage; 
be not afraid, neither b,e thou dismay- 
ed; for the Lord thy God is with thee, 
whithersoever thou goest.” 

The Herr Professor at once prepared 
for the work before him. From his 
portmanteau' he took a piece of the 
same odd, silky material with the fine 
metallic threads in it of which the robe 
he had worn on his first entry into the 
cavern was made. From this he fash- 
ioned a jacket which neatly covered 
•the casket of Karlium chloride, adjust- 
ing it very carefully so that there 
should be no exposure of the top or any 
side, but leaving the bottom resting 
upon the table as before. Then from 
the same receptacle he took a small 
jar of some chemical in paste-like 
form, and with this and the aid of a 
brush he complet^y painted over the 
silky cover or jacket, until it looked 
like a piece of white marble. 

Carefully inspecting the wire con- 
nections, he then made a motion of his 
hand to Gardner, who evidently under- 
stood its meaning; for, stopping but a 
second to look upon the beautiful sleep- 
ing girl so dear to him, as he passed 
her, he went like a soldier to his post 
» of duty, at the further end of the 
cavern. 

After a rapid inspection of the ma- 
chinery with which he had thoroughly 
familiarized himself earlier in the day, 
he signalled to the Herr Professor that 
all was in readiness. Professor Karl, 
his eyes fixed upon the casket, or rath- 
er its now opaque covering, raised his 
hand. Gardner threw on the switch of 
the Tesla oscillating current machine, 
and grasping the knob of the rheostat 
turned it slowly and steadily to the 
right. As the arm passed over the lit- 
tle copper discs, one by one, the sensi- 
tive needle of the voltmeter just above 
and opposite his eyes followed, indicat- 
ing the voltage delivered. As this 
needle passed the figures, Gardner an- 
nounced them to Professor Karl. 

As indicated by Doctor Raymond, the 
peculiar oscillating current produced 
by this machine and named after its 
discoverer, Nikola Tesla, differs en- 


68 


The Secret of Table Rock 


V 


tirely from other currents; and volt- 
ages which in these would be incon- 
ceivably destructive may be, in the 
Tesla current, produced and utilized 
with impunity. It is said, indeed, that 
the inventor has taken a million volts 
of this current through his body with- 
out injury. 

Nevertheless it is not strange that 
to the little company in the cavern, the 
scene, the occasion, and the figures an- 
nounced by Gardner were profoundly 
impressive. Steadily the needle of the 
voltmeter moved to the right around 
the clock-like face of that marvellous 
instrument. A thousand volts — ten 
thousand — twenty — fifty — an hundred 
thousand! Still the Herr Professor’s 
band was raised — two — three — four 
hundred thousand! The air in the 
cavern was almost crackling and seem- 
ed to tingle with excitement. The 
rough faces of the rocks and the hair 
and clothing of the people grew lumin- 
ous as if touched with phosphorus. 

Five hundred thousand volts! The 
Herr Professor’s hand partly dropped, 
as a signal to Gardner to hold the 
current at that point. And in an in- 
stant a marvellous thing happened! 
As if in a flash of lightning, the 
opaque covering of the casket entire- 
ly disappeared! The men, who were 
grouped around the table watching, 
started back in involuntary terror, but 
Professor Karl hastened to reassure 
them. 

“Do not fear — dere iss no danger. 
Der mantle iss still covering der gas- 
ket — if it were not you would be dead 
before you haf time to start. Der 
salts are now oxcited to deir most 
terrific activity and dey haf made der 
mantle transparent; but chemically it 
iss still perfect und der emanations 
cannot pass through. Soon ve shall 
take away der danger part.’’ 

Relieved from their involuntary ter- 
ror, the men resumed their places 
around the table and gave their eager 
attention to the casket. The salt-like 
crystals, now plainly visible, were in 
active though perfectly harmonious 
motion. In rapid, rhythmical move- 
ment they were grinding against each 
other, like the sand through which 
you may have seen a mountain spring 
boiling to the surface. After a little 


it was apparent that each crystal was 
being slightly reduced in size by at- 
trition and the chemical action of the 
tremendous electrical current passing 
through them. The bulk of the cas- 
ket’s contents had been reduced just 
perceptibly when the Herr Professor 
signalled and Gardner threw open the 
switch and shut the current off. 

As suddenly as it had vanished the 
mantle reappeared, exactly the same 
in appearance as before, and shut the 
contents of the casket from view. 
Professor Karl waited about five min- 
utes, then carefully lifted the mantle, 
set it on the table, removed the top of 
the casket, and on the contents — 
which was now to all appearance in- 
ert — poured a few drops of colorless 
liquid from a small bottle covered 
with lead. 

Then he replaced cover and mantle, 
and taking from his portmanteau a 
piece of the silky cloth, he tore it into 
strips about an inch in width, from 
which he fashioned a sort of net 
around the casket, and outside the 
mantle, leaving knotted ends loose at 
the top so that the whole could be 
lifted and suspended by them, (as he 
proved by careful trial) in a level 
position. 

These arrangementte complefied to 
his satisfaction he signalled Gardner 
to turn on the current again, and, 
the needle of the voltmeter crept stead- 
ily around until five hundred thou- 
sand volts pressure was indicated. At 
this point the mantle vanished as be- 
fore, and the Karlium crystals were 
again revealed in the same state of 
activity. But this time the Herr Pro- 
fessor’s uplifted hand still held its 
position, and Gardner, white of face 
but steady as a rock, slowly turned the 
knob of the rheostat to the right. 
Six hundred thousand — 'Seven — eighb 
— nine — a million volts! Hold there, 
John Gardner! 

The little group were literally ap- 
palled by the inconceivable force ex- 
erted in their presence. The women, 
who were waking, covered their eyes 
and trembled. The men’s faces were 
white and drawn. The atmosphere of 
the cavern seemed instinct with life, 
and vibrated as if in a terrified effort 
to escape. The rough and broken 


The Secret oj Table Rock. 


69 


faces of the rocks were luminous, and 
from their sharp points wavering pen- 
cils of blue-tinted light reached out 
toward other points and met with a 
crackling noise. The people appeared 
fts if clothed in garments of soft, long 
fur, and the fur was Incandescent, 
shading from flame color into blue. 

In the casket the salts writhed and 
boiled with redoubled activity. Thus 
for perhaps three minutes, which 
seemed like hours — and then, in the 
twinkling of an eye, each tiny crystal 
seemed to open and swallow up its 
neighbor! The salts had utterly van- 
ished, and in its place was a liquid, 
golden and luminous. In density it 
seemed about half-way between water 
and quick-silver; in color it was in- 
describable, unless it be compared to 
the soft golden light of the setting sun 
imprisoned and liquified by some in- 
conceivable pressure. 

The Herr Professor’s uplifted hand 
dropped, and as it did so long tongues 
of flame shot out from the end of each 
finger and striking the rock floor roll- 
ed away in balls of ghost-fire, until 
they vanished in the cracks and fis- 
sures. Gardner threw open the switch 
and came forward to join the group 
whose eager and wondering regards 
were fixed upon the casket. 

A marvel indeed was being revealed 
to them, for although the electric cur- 
rent no longer flowed through the cas- 
ket, the mantle still remained trans- 
parent and the liquid continued in 
ceaseless motion. It had settled into 
a long, smooth swell, from one end 
of the casket to the other, and back 
again. And by some subtle spell, as 
the gaze rested upon it, all sense of 
proportion seemed to be lost, and the 
small quantity of golden liquid, flow- 
ing back and forth in smooth swells 
within the confines of that little cas- 
ket, appeared to have all the impos- 
ing dignity, all the limitless power 
and grandeur of the long deep swell 
of waters in mid-ocean, majestic and 
unconfined. 

“Mein friends,” said the Herr Pro- 
fessor, impressively, “you now stand 
as near as you ever can, in der flesh, 
to der meeting point of spirit und 
matter. Der liquid in der gasket iss 
pure Karlium, combined only with der 


liquified gas dot iss its closest affinity. 
We do not know der gas much, be- 
cause it gannot be isolated. Chem- 
istry could separate dem — but it vould 
be useless, for both vould instantly 
vanish from all our perceptions, und 
return into der mind of der Infinite 
from whence dey came.” 

Professor Karl had brought with 
him from the hotel a folding tripod 
such as photographers use. He now 
adjusted this so that its apex was 
directly over Grace De Costa’s face 
at a height of about three feet. Lift- 
ing the casket carefully by the knotted 
upper ends of the strips he had fashion- 
ed about it, he suspended it from this 
tripod. Although the ebb and flow of 
the strange liquid continued in cease- 
less motion, the casket hung motion- 
less; and as the strips became trans- 
parent and invisible wherever they 
touched the casket or mantle, it ap- 
peared as if suspended in the air en- 
tirely without support. 

The mantle covering its top and 
sides, although invisible, evidently 
stopped, by some chemical property, 
all perceptible emanations from the 
liquid. But the bottom, of heavy glass 
inside of which were the metallic elec- 
trodes (now entirely transparent) had 
no such effect; and as the liquid moved 
back and forth in those long majestic 
swells, a flood of light poured from it 
straight upon the lovely upturned face 
of the sleeping girl. This light can- 
not be described. It was as soft as 
summer moonlight, and yet so instinct 
with the most intense vitality that 
words can convey no adequate idea of 
the impression it made upon the per- 
ceptions of those who saw and can 
never forget it. 

The men were*^ grouped at a respect- 
ful distance, their rapt and breathless 
attention fixed upon the marvel before 
them. Mrs. Pettis, speechless with agi- 
tation, sat rigidly in a chair. Phoebe 
excited but erect, fearless and vigilant, 
stood close by her charge; and at the 
foot of the couch, her face buried in 
her hands which still held Ferdinand 
De Costa’s letter, knelt a stately and 
beautiful woman in black, praying for 
the quick and the dead. 

In tenderness and love, oh Angels 
of the Most High, bear upward this 


70 


The Secret of Table Rock 


and all such other of our poor and 
faltering petitions as are in truth 
“the soul’s sincere desire, uttered or 
unexpressed.” Not to inform Infinite 
Wisdom of our needs, not to ask of 
Infinite Love that which is given be- 
fore we ask, but only that the struggle 
of the spirit may prevail against the 
bonds of mortal ignorance and weak- 
ness. After what manner dost thou 
pray, oh woman in sombre garb? Not 
for surcease of sorrow and suffering, 
for these are but poisonous vines grow- 
ing from the root called sin, which is 
infraction of the law. Not for forgive- 
ness of sin for sin has no existence. 
Like the wrong figure in a sum, or a 
discord in music, it sore affronts us 
with its false pretense; but to find and 
correct these is to demonstrate their 
utter nothingness, and so when run 
down and confronted, this fearsome 
dragon, sin, must confess that it is 
only a mistake and vanish into the 
void of darkness. For could our eyes 
see clearly, and could we really know 
how utterly futile is any effort to evade 
the law, how false all promises of ad- 
vantage from breaking it, and how 
sure the retribution that must follow 
the offense, where would one be found 
so weak and foolish as to try the path? 
All through the ages man has battled 
against the immutable law of the uni- 
verse, struggling to overthrow or set 
it aside in favor of some rule of ac- 
tion which deludes his fancy by the 
false pretense that it will better serve 
his personal pleasure or selfish in- 
terest. The shores of time are strewn 
with broken and bleeding wrecks which 
attest his failure; yet he still main- 
tains the stubborn, hopeless fight, still 
with fatuous confidence hugs his delusion 
that by hook or crook he can get a 
little more than his share of the things 
his fancy covets. And so the epitome 
of all earth’s sin and sorrow, suffer- 
ing and shame, is written in the piti- 
fully simple words, “It is all a mis- 
take!” Wherefore, fair and gentle 
woman, pray thus and for us all: 

“Infinite Spirit of Truth, even as the 
vitalizing radiance that comes from 
Thee now falls upon the face of this 
sleeping girl, so let the light of Thy 
spirit illumine our earth -darkened 
consciousness, until ignorance, error, 
and delusion shall vanish into their 


native nothingness, as darkness melts 
before the sunshine. Then shall we 
understand Thy way, and so under- 
standing, all good things shall be add- 
ed unto us and that be fulfilled which 
is written — Thy children shall know 
the truth, and from all sin and pain 
and sorrow the truth shall make them 
free, Amen.” 

P'or such space of time as these 
words have filled, the sleeping girl still 
peacefully slept on. Then up into her 
fair face slowly crept a faint rosy 
flush; a soft smile as from some plea- 
sant dream moved her lips — and pre- 
sently the long fringes of her eyelids 
lifted, and her clear eyes, quite un- 
startled, gazed straight up into the 
marvellous radiance that fell upon her 
from the casket. Then she moved and 
slowly rising sat up upon the couch. 
Like a little child waking from sleep, 
and misdoubting that the world is but 
another dream, she passed her hands 
across her eyes for reassurance. And 
then, with a low glad cry “Oh my love, 
my love!” she sprang to her feet and 
into John Gardner’s open arms. 

But even this dear enfolding could 
not shut out another new and subtle 
sense that had somehow reached her 
awakened consciousness, for in a mo- 
ment she lifted her head, and ,3rying 
“My mother — I know it is my mother!” 
was clasped to Corona’s heart. 

To recount the explanations that 
followed would be but repetition; to at- 
tempt to convey any idea of the hap- 
piness that filled the cavern full, 
would be simply to fail. At last Grace 
was fully convinced that it was all 
real, and that she had not reawaken- 
ed in Heaven as was her first impres- 
sion. 

The Herr Professor’s wonderful ex- 
periment had succeeded; the Secret of 
Table Rock had been revealed; the 
newly-found elemental force had 
strangely and impressively punished 
the misuse of its power and rewarded 
the faith of those whose hearts were 
pure and whose purposes were good. 
And now the time had come to return 
to the work-a-day world. 

By common consent, John Gardner 
and Grace De Costa headed the little 
procession out of the cavern. His strong 
right arm shamelessly encircled her 
slender waist, and her golden-brown 


The Secret of Table Rock 


71 


head rested against his shoulder in 
the abandon of perfect love and trust. 

As they stepped from the door of 
the cottage the golden light of the set- 
ting sun fell upon them in all its 
caressing splendor. And from their 
happy faces was reflected back the 
radiance of those other elementals 
which come in all their spiritual purity 
straight from the Master Mind. These 
unite with no material affinities, and 
the flnite senses may not perceive 
them; but if we only knew how to 
break down the barriers of ignorance, 
prejudice, and error, to sweep aside 
the clogging dust of ages and drink 


them in as the waters of everlasting 
life, what sorrow, pain, or infirmity 
could withstand their healing power? 
If we but knew! 

Sweet Charity, which like the bene- 
diction of fading twilight tenderly 
softens and then covers from cen- 
sorious sight the multitude of our 
mistakes; Faith and Hope, the angels 
of thought by whose wings alone we 
are upborne through all the joys and 
sorrows, tears and fears, of this mor- 
tal stage in our eternal journey. And 
behold, the greatest of these is I^ove. 


FINIS. 



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